


The Monster and the Girl

by NeedTheDark



Category: The Blacklist (US TV)
Genre: Beauty and the Beast Elements, Beauty and the Beast meets The Blacklist, Don't go in the west wing, Elizabeth wants to fix him, F/M, Lizzie whump!, Rape/Non-con Elements, Raymond Reddington is so damaged, Stockholm Syndrome, angst in spades, violent red
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:22:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 25,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24073642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeedTheDark/pseuds/NeedTheDark
Summary: Devastated by a personal tragedy, Raymond Reddington has become a ruthless criminal, a true monster who has lost sight of the man he was. One day, he’s about to kill a college professor when the man’s daughter offers herself to him in exchange for her father’s life. Intrigued, he accepts and they begin a battle of innocence and darkness that will change their lives forever. Lizzington. CONTENT WARNING: Non-con, violence
Relationships: Elizabeth Keen & Raymond Reddington, Elizabeth Keen/Raymond Reddington
Comments: 195
Kudos: 357





	1. Chapter 1

Liz Scott sat in an empty lecture hall on her college campus, leafing through the psychology midterm papers she had to grade. As a graduate student she enjoyed having a job as a TA, but that evening the stack of papers in front of her seemed rather daunting. Smiling with a sigh, she decided to pick them up in the morning. For now she would go and visit her father, Professor Sam Scott, a respected researcher in the chemistry department. She loved her father dearly, and although life on campus could be a little lonely, it brought her great comfort that she could see him whenever she wanted.

She walked across the college quad alone, looking at a couple of freshmen laughing and cajoling one another, and a group of gymnasts in uniform going to a meet. Although she didn’t realise it, she was a very beautiful young woman who was well-liked by everyone she met, but she had always felt lonely. She’d failed to find her niche at the college, preferring to spend her time in the library or with her father. She couldn’t help but feel that something was missing from her life, a sense of purpose or duty. She dreamed of becoming a profiler with the FBI, so that one day she would be able to help people.

She stepped into the echoing corridors of the old chemistry department, dark now that the evening was drawing in and the students were gone for the day. As she approached her father’s laboratory, she heard his voice from behind the closed door. Her skin began to prickle; he wasn’t alone, and judging by his tone he was very agitated. She opened the door with a frown and froze when she took in the spectacle in front of her.

Her father stood behind his desk, his face white and hands shaking. There were two other men in the room, a tall man with long silver hair who stood back from the confrontation, and another man with whom she was immediately transfixed in horror. He wore a dark three-piece suit and a fedora hat like a gangster, but it was the pistol he held casually in his gloved hand that held her attention.

All three men turned to her as she entered, and she saw her father’s eyes widen further in fear.

“Elizabeth, no! Run!”

She stood, rooted to the spot, and before she could overcome the paralysis of fear, the man with the gun spoke to her, his voice devastatingly calm and menacing.

“I don’t think so. Shut the door Elizabeth, and come here.”

He did not point the weapon directly at her, but she noted the faint tilt of the barrel that was enough to encourage her to obey him. Swallowing hard, she closed the door softly behind her, and took a few, faltering steps towards him.

“You leave her be, she’s nothing to do with this!” her father spluttered, panicked.

“What is this?” she asked faintly. “What do you want with my father?”

The menacing stranger broke into a smile that did not reach his eyes. “Your father?” he drawled. “Well well. This certainly makes things interesting. And I do get bored so easily these days.”

“If you hurt her, I swear to _God_ …” Professor Scott hissed.

Elizabeth had never seen him so angry or frightened, and it turned her blood cold.

“Please... Sir…” she tried, her voice shaking a little. “My father is just a college professor, he surely can’t have done anything to anger you.”

The man laughed mirthlessly, but turned to look at her properly for the first time.

“On the contrary. Unfortunately your father has made me very angry _indeed_ , Miss Scott” he said with a hint of mocking that made her very uncomfortable. “You may be aware that he’s developed a new polymer that could eventually form the basis of the most sophisticated body armor on the planet. It’s ingenious really, so much so that I offered him a truly disgusting amount of money for it. Regrettably he turned me down, and now I discover that he’s about to do a deal with the US government to develop it – at no charge!”

“What can be so wrong about helping people protect themselves?” Liz asked, confused.

The man’s mouth twitched in amusement as though there were a joke she didn’t get. He walked slowly towards her and she braced herself, trying not to tremble. When he reached her, he caught her chin firmly in his gloved hand and looked down at her appraisingly with cool, gray-blue eyes.

“I don’t encounter innocence frequently, Miss Scott” he murmured. “On you, I have to say it’s really quite appealing.”

He continued to stare down at her for a few moments more before releasing her and turning back to her father.

“Professor, would you care to enlighten your daughter?”

Professor Scott was grimacing at the man with equal parts disgust and fear. “This man is an international arms dealer. His _product_ is no good if it can’t penetrate American defences.”

“Quite so” the man said briskly. “And _scintillating_ as this has been, it’s time to end it” he proclaimed, cocking the revolver in his hand.

“Wait, I’ll stop!” Professor Scott gasped. “I’ll end the deal and destroy the research. I’ll never touch it again, I swear it!”

“There!” Liz said desperately. “You have his word, he’ll stop. Please, leave us alone.”

The stranger tilted his head slightly, his gaze fixed on her. “I survive in my world by leaving nothing to chance” he said firmly. “The pleas of a young woman, however beautiful she may be, will not alter the very fabric of the code that has kept me alive and my business thriving. Now Miss Scott, I suggest you leave unless you want to live with the memory of your father’s brains painted on the hallowed walls of your campus. I assure you, it’s not a pretty sight.”

Tears sprang to her eyes and she sobbed “please, please don’t do this, he didn’t mean any harm - he’s all I have!”

She darted forward but the silver-haired body guard sized her arms, holding her back where she struggled ineffectively.

The man shook his head in admonishment, pursing his lips as he turned back to her father, raising his weapon to take the fatal shot.

“Take me!” Liz blurted, the words rushing from her mouth before she’d had a chance to think. “I’ll do anything. Take me instead of him!”

“Elizabeth, no!” Professor Scott gasped urgently. “I’m old, I’ve had my time - you need to go and live your life!”

She kept her eyes fixed on the stranger, who was now regarding her curiously, his cool eyes appraising. She could tell she’d caught his interest and, taking a deep breath, she made a proposal that would change her life forever.

“Let my father live and my life is yours. I’ll do anything you want” she said bravely.

“No, Lizzie! She doesn’t mean that!” her father spluttered.

The stranger frowned a little, and he brought the gun down to his side. “You would take his place? Give your life to me for whatever purpose I see fit?”

“If I did, would you let him go?” she asked slowly.

The man stared at her with a penetrating gaze, working his jaw as he considered. “Yes” he said finally, his tone heavy.

“Oh Lizzie, no! You don’t know what you’re doing!” her father cried desperately.

The stranger turned to him with a tight smile. “Do not underestimate your daughter, Professor Scott. I believe she understands exactly what she’s doing. So here’s how we will proceed. You will retire immediately. You will not resume your work on this project nor will you speak of it to anyone. You will never see your daughter again, and you most certainly will never speak of what has transpired here. If I find you have broken this agreement it will go very badly for both of you. Do we have a deal?” he finished, turning to Liz.

“Yes” she whispered firmly, fighting back tears.

“No Lizzie, no” her father moaned helplessly. “Please, please don’t hurt her!”

“A deal has been struck, Professor Scott” the stranger said airily, tucking his weapon away in a hidden holster. “She is no longer your concern. And now I think we’d best be going.”

The man swept past Liz and stalked out of the room, his silver-haired body guard gripping her arms and pushing her along behind him.

“Wait!” she cried desperately but in a moment she had been bundled out of the room and down the corridor, her father’s anguished sobs ringing in her ears.

* * *

When they reached a black Mercedes parked outside the building, Liz looked around desperately for anyone who would notice and come to her aid, but the campus was now deserted. The guard’s grip was so firm that she half expected to be thrown in the trunk of the car, but the stranger stopped and opened the door for her in a surprisingly gentlemanly way.

“After you, Miss Scott.”

Elizabeth looked from the guard to him, and with a shaky breath, got into the car. The stranger got in beside her and removed his fedora, placing it neatly on his lap as the bodyguard got in front and started the engine.

They drove in silence for a while and Liz blinked back tears at the enormity of what she had done. She thought of the midterm papers she would never now grade. The beloved father she would never see again. She wiped away a tear angrily.

“You didn’t even let me say goodbye” she choked bitterly. “I’ll never see him again. I didn’t get to say goodbye!”

The man nodded tightly. “I find a protracted farewell can rub salt in an already bitter wound. In time you may come to be grateful for it.”

Liz scoffed and stared out of the window, feeling his eyes on her.

“Do you know who I am?” the man asked then.

She shook her head. “I only know that you’re a monster” she whispered through her tears.

“Yes” he responded evenly, surprising her with his candor. “My name is Raymond Reddington.”

At his words, cold fear began to seep throughout her limbs and she stiffened.

“I see my reputation precedes me” he said drily.

Liz swallowed. The section on the notoriously illusive crime lord in her criminal psych text book had been very brief – so little was known about him – but what there had been was enough to convince her that she had inadvertently sold her soul to the devil himself.

“Yes” she whispered. “I’m a grad student in criminal psychology. Was a grad student” she corrected herself. “Your name came up a few times.”

“And do you now regret your decision?” he asked.

She turned to look at him, fixing her deep blue eyes on his face with all the strength she could muster.

“Not for a second” she said fiercely. “I love my father. I’d do anything for him.”

He regarded her shrewdly for a moment before turning away to stare out of the window. “Well then.”

They remained silent after that, as the car sped her away to an unknown future as the prisoner of one of the most dangerous men in the world.


	2. Chapter 2

Eventually they pulled up at a large house in the suburbs. Liz wasn’t sure what kind of place an international crime lord would live in, but it wasn’t what she was expecting. Grand without being opulent, it could almost have been a family home, except the inside was devoid of photographs or anything that would tell you something about the history of the man who owned it. In fact, although the décor was tasteful and traditional, she could see nothing personal at all except for a gramophone and a large vinyl collection visible as they walked past the living room.

He led her upstairs and opened the door to a large, comfortable looking bedroom with an ensuite bathroom and a large window.

“This will be your bedroom” he told her perfunctorily. “Clothes and toiletries will be delivered tomorrow, in the meantime you should find what you need for the night in the bathroom. You have full use of the house except the west wing, which you will not enter under any circumstances.”

“What’s in the west wing?” she asked instinctively.

“It’s _forbidden_ ” he snapped, his cool eyes darkening frighteningly. “My housekeeper, Kate Kaplan, will be here in the morning. Speak to her if there’s anything you need.”

Liz looked away from him and took in the room in front of her. “This is lovely. I thought…” she trailed off.

“You thought I’d keep a dungeon prepared for hapless young women who offer themselves up to me?” he said gruffly. “Make no mistake, Miss Scott. There may not be chains and bars, but this is no less a prison. You have given yourself to me. I suggest you come to terms with that as quickly as possible.”

His words stabbed at her heart and she nodded tightly. “I’ll do my best. Good night, Mr Reddington.”

“Not so fast” he countered brusquely. “You will join me for dinner.”

Liz drew her arms around her, desperate to be away from him and alone to process the monumental events of the day. “I’m sorry I just want to be on my own right now.”

His expression darkened, and it was all she could do not to tremble as she caught a glimpse of the terrible power underneath his cool exterior. “It wasn’t a request. Dinner will be served at nine” he warned stiffly, turning to leave.

She wasn’t sure whether it was panic or grief, but Liz’s temper flared before she could prevent it.

“I said _no_.”

He paused in the doorway, before turning back to her, his eyes flashing and mouth set in a thin line. “You will come down to dinner at nine or you won’t eat at all” he said, his tone dangerously quiet.

Liz raised her chin defiantly. “I’m not hungry” she said firmly.

He looked at her with cold fury. “Have it your way” he hissed before sweeping from the room, banging the door shut behind him.

Overwhelmed with the enormity of everything that had happened, she threw herself on the bed and cried long into the night.

* * *

The next morning she showered and dressed quickly, and slipped quietly from the room. Reddington had said she was free to move about in the house apart from the mysterious west wing, but she had no desire whatsoever to run into him. She moved cautiously downstairs to the kitchen, but there was no sign that he was in the house.

In the kitchen she found a steely looking older woman with short black hair and beady eyes, who turned to look at her appraisingly as she came in. As she looked at Liz her lined mouth pursed disapprovingly and she shook her head.

“So young” she observed stiffly. “How old are you exactly?”

“Twenty-three” Liz replied.

The woman shook her head again. “And you gave your life away in a heartbeat. Foolish.”

Liz reddened, but before she could respond the woman continued briskly. “Still, there’s nothing to be done now. Might as well make the best of it. I’m Mr Kaplan, Mr Reddington’s housekeeper… among other things” she added enigmatically.

“ _Mr_ Kaplan” Liz queried, puzzled.

“Correct” the woman said, without offering explanation. “Are you hungry?” she asked then.

“Starving” Liz said with a rueful smile.

“Yes, I heard” Kaplan said as she placed toast, bacon and juice on the table. “You refused his dinner invitation. That was extremely risky. If you’ve any sense at all you won’t defy him again. I’m surprised he tolerated it as he did.”

He’d allowed her to go without dinner, Liz thought to herself – what worse thing might he have done, she wondered fearfully as she tucked into the breakfast before her.

Mr Kaplan stood beside the table as she ate. “Your clothes and other necessities will be delivered today, but if there’s anything else you require, you should let me know.”

“Such as?” Liz asked cautiously.

Mr Kaplan shrugged curtly. “Anything. Whatever young women such as yourself might want. Makeup. Music. Books. Mr Reddington is an exceedingly wealthy man.”

At the mention of books, Liz’s face lit up. “Books… I do love to read – novels, poetry… anything. And if I could perhaps have a few of next year’s psychology texts… I could keep up with my studies. You know, even if I’m not at college any more” she said wistfully.

The woman fixed her with a beady stare but eventually nodded. “Write me a list and I’ll see that you get them.”

Liz smiled broadly in relief. “Thank you. Thank you so much. That will make a huge difference. I didn’t know what to expect coming here… but he can’t be so bad if he’s willing to allow me that. To keep up my studies.”

Mr Kaplan looked at her sharply, her features set with what looked like a mixture of alarm and pity.

“Don’t be naïve, child. Mr Reddington is an extremely dangerous man. If I were you I’d do your best to stay out of his way if you possibly can. If you can’t, for heaven’s sake don’t cross him.”

Liz’s eyes widened, and, chastened, she nodded mutely and finished her breakfast in silence.

* * *

The clothes, when they arrived, had Liz in a state of equal parts wonder and bemusement. There were everyday clothes consisting of designer jeans, Ts and cashmere sweaters, but also fancier outfits, including several stunning evening dresses complete with matching shoes and purses, all from sophisticated labels that Liz could never have hoped to afford.

The last time she had worn an evening dress was to her senior prom. Where on earth was he planning on taking her that she would require clothes like this? Or did he expect her to wear them in the house – to wear them for him - she thought uncomfortably. There was also a large selection of attractive but tasteful underwear that made her stomach knot a little. She wasn’t sure what he wanted from her, but she had to assume that his motives in accepting her offer weren’t pure.

A few days later, when Reddington left instructions that he would be home for dinner and she should join him, she resolved to go, aware that he likely wouldn’t tolerate another instance of insubordination. When the evening came, she expected a sarcastic comment about her attendance, or recrimination of some kind, but he was silent, only looking at her intently as she took tiny mouthfuls of the elaborate dinner before her.

Her heart was beating so hard she could barely swallow, and in the end the tension became unbearable.

“What do you do, each day?” She asked, desperate to break the silence. “I mean, what does a…”

“What does a criminal do?” Reddington finished for her, stiffly.

She nodded cautiously. “You leave early and come back late. Almost like a city job.”

He looked at her thoughtfully before answering in clipped sentences, almost as though he wasn’t used to making conversation.

“It is, in a way. I run a business. It requires attention. Maintenance. Though the hours aren’t as regular as they appear.”

_I bet_ , Liz thought. She almost laughed then, at the idea of making small talk with one of the FBI’s most wanted. But knowing that would be a mistake, she decided to try to make amends for angering him.

“I wanted to thank you” she said a little awkwardly. “For the things you’ve bought for me. The books… it will help me to keep up my studies.”

Reddington took a sip of wine and nodded. “Ah yes, criminal psychology. At the risk of sounding immodest, this must be quite the case study for you - observing a notorious criminal up close.”

Liz colored a little. “Yes. You could say that. I’m going to be… I wanted to be a profiler with the FBI’s behavioral analysis unit.”

“Is that so… Tell me then, what have you observed?” Reddington continued gruffly. “Tell me my profile.”

Liz paused, her eyes widening in alarm. How would she answer him without angering him, the exact thing the housekeeper had warned her against. Was he trying to trick her – looking for an excuse to hurt her? She could try to flatter him, but that would be pointless as she knew that he would see right through it.

“Well?” he asked impatiently. “You’ve been here for days, surely you must have gleaned some insight, however _small_ ” he said tersely.

Liz took a gulp of her wine before answering, desperate to steady her nerves. With effort, she met his cold gaze across the table.

“You’re a loner. You keep people at arm’s length. With your lifestyle any close ties would make you vulnerable.”

She paused, her heart racing, and his lip curled into a sneer. “That would apply to anyone in my position. If that’s all-”

“The FBI profiles say you’re a psychopath because of the terrible things you’ve done, but that’s not accurate at all” she continued bravely.

“You don’t have an absence of emotion – you feel too much. You’re not motivated by inflicting pain on others but by the pain you feel yourself. Something terrible happened to you. It consumes you, and drives every area of your life, your business, this house… even taking me.”

Liz took another sip of wine, hoping he couldn’t see her hand shaking. When she looked up he hadn’t moved, only continued to stare at her, the slight tension in his jaw the only sign of the impact of her words. Eventually he dabbed at the corner of his mouth with his napkin genteelly and stood up.

“There’s an auction I need to attend this Saturday evening” he said in a low voice. “You will accompany me. Be ready by six. And please dress appropriately” he finished curtly.

Liz nodded numbly and watched, bewildered, as he left the room.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains graphic non-con. Please do not read if this triggers or offends.

When Saturday came, Liz was consumed with doubt over which of the opulent evening dresses in her wardrobe she should wear. She’d never attended an auction and had no idea what would be appropriate. In the end she selected an elegant, strapless, dark red silk that hugged her modest curves without being obvious. She walked nervously down the stairs to the large hall and found him waiting there, and was immensely relieved to see that he was wearing a tuxedo; she had not overdressed.

He turned to look at her as she approached and she thought she saw his lips part appreciatively before his expression returned to neutral.

“After you, Miss Scott” he said, gesturing to the door.

Typically taciturn, he was silent during the chauffeured drive to the event, and they had almost arrived before Liz plucked up the courage to ask the question that had been swirling in her mind.

“Mr Reddington, may I ask… why did you want me to accompany you tonight? I’m sure you could have found a plus one who is less of a liability. Someone who knows how to behave at events like this.”

He turned to look at her, his greyish eyes appearing almost green in the glow of passing streetlights.

“I could” he responded in a clipped tone. “Though perhaps not one with your talent for reading people. I believe it could be useful tonight.”

Liz’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, but she tried to remain professional. “There’s an item you want and you don’t want to be outbid?” she enquired.

Reddington’s lip twitched dismissively. “I have no interest in the trinkets on the block tonight” he told her, drumming his fingers idly on the seat. “There’s a man who will be there, a business associate. It’s imperative that he finishes the night in my debt.”

Liz frowned. “And how are you going to make that happen?”

“I have no idea” Reddington huffed with a humorless laugh. We’ll have to improvise, won’t we.”

* * *

When Liz took her seat she was more nervous than ever. The auction was taking place at a fancy art gallery, and a brief look at the catalogue told her that none of the pieces had starting bids of less than a quarter of a million dollars. She saw Reddington nod politely to several of the attendees before facing the front, his expression one of fatigued boredom. It occurred to her then how miserable it must be for him to maintain his vast criminal empire, attending events like this one, when he clearly took no pleasure in it. She hadn’t seen a genuine smile or a spark of joy in him.

As the auction commenced, Liz watched, awed as paintings, statues and ornaments were sold for vast sums of money, while Reddington made no move to participate or talk to anyone.

“Who is the man?” she whispered eventually. “Your business associate.”

He didn’t respond and she couldn’t resist shaking her head in frustration. “If I’m going to help, I need to know who it is you need in your debt, as you put it.”

Reddington’s lip twitched in annoyance, but eventually he answered her, keeping his eyes on the auctioneer as he did so.

“Second row to your right. The dark-haired gentleman in the rather garish blue tux.”

Liz looked over and saw the man in question, a very handsome young man wearing a cocky expression and rich navy blue tuxedo.

“Got him” she murmured.

Eventually a rather unremarkable painting of a plump woman playing a piano came on the block and the auctioneer began the bidding.

“Here we have lot number eighteen, entitled ‘Young woman seated at a virginal’. The only Vermeer in private hands, this is a rare opportunity to enhance your collection. We start the bidding at five million dollars – do I hear five million?”

Liz watched as the man in the blue tux raised his paddle.

“ _That’s_ considered a masterpiece?” she murmured as the auctioneer continued the bidding.

“She’s breathtakingly unattractive, isn’t she” Reddington responded casually. Then he surprised her by raising his paddle. “Ten million.”

“Fifteen” came the response from the man in the blue tux.

Liz nodded. “You’re going to outbid him and then offer to sell it to him in exchange for whatever it is you need from him” she murmured.

She looked back to the man, observing his behaviour as the bidding continued, Reddington and the man offering more and more. She leaned into Reddington as far as she dared. “It won’t work.”

“Excuse me?” he said, irritated.

Liz swallowed nervously. “Your plan won’t work. In order for him to be in your debt, you need to lose this auction, not win it.”

“I don’t lose” Reddington responded firmly, raising his paddle again. “Twenty million dollars.”

“You do if you want this guy to owe you” she whispered as the auction continued. “I’ve been watching him. He’s more interested in you than he is in the painting. He’s a gambler. He thinks you want the painting and he’s trying to drive the price up to mess with you. He’s betting that you won’t be prepared to be outbid, and he’s right – like you said, you don’t lose. He’s already way over his budget. If he ends up stuck with it, my guess is he’ll be desperate for you to take it off his hands in exchange for whatever you want.”

Reddington’s brow knitted slightly as he considered her statement, while the man in the blue tux raised his paddle smugly. “Thirty million dollars.”

“Stop now” Liz said firmly under her breath. “Call his bluff.”

Reddington tensed but his paddle remained on his lap.

“Do I hear thirty five?” the auctioneer questioned, looking at Reddington.

Reddington remained silent, only offered a slight shake of his head.

“Going once, going twice, SOLD to the gentleman in the blue tux for thirty million dollars, a true masterpiece and a fantastic sale, congratulations sir! Now with that excellent exchange, we’ll take a break.” the auctioneer concluded.

“It worked” Liz whispered as she stole a glance over at the man. “He’s sweating and looking daggers at you. Now you just need offer to buy it from him and he won’t be able to refuse. Or maybe he’ll even come to you” she added as she saw the man rise from his seat and approach them awkwardly.

“Red!” the man exclaimed with faux joviality, shaking his hand. “Wonderful to see you here. A rare treat.”

“Daniel” Reddington responded coolly. “Allow me to introduce my companion, Elizabeth.”

The man turned his attention to her and kissed her outstretched hand in an over-the-top gesture that turned Reddington’s expression even more sour.

“Wonderful to make your acquaintance, Elizabeth. Red is indeed fortunate to have such a charming _companion_.”

Liz sensed Reddington’s displeasure at the man’s display, and felt his hand come about her waist and grip her proprietorially. She may have just been an accessory to him, but she noted with interest that he had a possessive streak somewhat at odds with his uncaring manner.

“What can I do for you, Daniel?” Reddington said in a clipped tone.

“Great bit of sport that, eh? Sorry to pip you to the post there, my friend.”

Liz held back a shudder as Reddington offered a chilling smile in response. “I’m afraid I had a rather sudden change of heart” he said coldly. “I thought of the hideous music she must be playing and it put me right off.”

Daniel laughed awkwardly and Liz almost felt sorry for him. He licked his lips nervously.

“Well, the thing is… I was rather wondering if you could… Well if you were still interested, I would be willing to consider an offer on the painting. Perhaps, twenty-eight million? Two million off. It’s the least I can do for a respected business associate” he said, his voice dripping with insincere politeness.

“A whole two million” Reddington said sarcastically. “And there I was under the impression you were so broke you were desperate to get that fantastically ugly thing off your hands. I think we can do better than that.”

The man flushed scarlet with embarrassment and Liz felt her own cheeks color with discomfort at Reddington’s stark remark.

“Fine” Daniel huffed. “So I have a case of buyer’s remorse. Twenty-five. Final offer.”

“Fifteen” Reddington shot back. “And it comes with a condition attached: I need you and yours to vacate the Strait of Hormuz shipping lane April through July.”

“Out of the question!” Daniel spluttered indignantly.

“In which case we’re done here” Reddington said, taking Liz’s arm. “Enjoy the painting.”

“Wait!” the man said desperately. “Suppose I agree… You realise you’d be playing games with the Lorca family, right? Messing up their whole arms season?”

“I don’t play games” Reddington responded smoothly. “I do business. And this is a one-time offer. If you want to recoup anything at all I suggest you close this deal before it goes away.”

“Agreed” Daniel said tightly. “But the Lorcas… well it’s your funeral.”

Reddington gave him a plastic smile. “Wonderful. I’ll have my people send over the paperwork. Good night, Daniel. Pleasure doing business with you.”

With that, he took Liz’s arm firmly and steered her away.

* * *

When they returned to the house, Liz’s stomach was tight with anxiety, and she was desperate for the night to be over. She felt as though she’d participated in something horrible that she didn’t understand, perhaps even facilitated a crime, not to mention the humiliation of a man she’d never met before.

“Goodnight, Mr Reddington, and thank you for an interesting evening” she said politely, making for the stairs.

“We’re not done” he responded firmly, before walking away briskly towards the lounge.

She followed him uncertainly, a sinking feeling gripping her. She entered the luxurious room behind him and watched as he reached for a crystal decanter and poured himself a generous measure of its contents.

“Scotch?” he asked her without looking back.

“No thank you” she responded as neutrally as she could.

He took a sip of his drink and turned to look at her. “You disapprove of my actions tonight.”

Liz felt her discomfort increase tenfold, and she looked away defensively. “No… I guess I don’t understand why you had to humiliate him as well, that’s all.”

Reddington sniffed dismissively. “He attempted to undermine me. Not to mention his little gambling habit would have cost me millions of dollars. He’s lucky not to have met a worse fate than a bad deal and a little dressing down in front of a beautiful woman.”

Liz bit her lip, her cheeks coloring. What worse fate was he referring to? Would he have murdered this man just like he planned to murder her father? She was reminded in no uncertain terms that Reddington was a ruthless killer.

She stood awkwardly as he removed his jacket and tie, before settling into an armchair in front of her, looking her up and down appraisingly.

“Take off your dress” he instructed then.

Liz’s lips parted in shock and for a moment she just stared at him, taking in his steely gaze and the tumbler of scotch dangling casually from his fingers. His demeanour was so cold, disinterested even, and for a moment she thought she must have misheard him.

“Have you forgotten our agreement so soon, Miss Scott?” he enquired icily.

She hadn’t, but the truth was that although she’d seen that he found her attractive, she’d dearly hoped against hope that he wouldn’t demand this kind of intimacy from her, especially so coldly and abruptly. She thought again of her father, of the sacrifice that she’d made, and swallowed hard, reaching round to unzip her dress.

The dress hadn’t required a bra, and she held her arm over her breasts to cover them as she pushed the red silk to the floor, stepping out of her heels as she did so. His expression remained cold as he looked at her, and she felt her face flush with miserable embarrassment. She looked away then, not wanting him to see the glint of tears as they pricked her eyes.

“Your panties too” he said in a low voice, and she closed her eyes, pressing her lips together to prevent a sob escaping.

She knew she had to do it; she’d made her choice and she had to make good on their agreement. She’d given herself to him. But in that moment she couldn’t, she couldn’t bare herself to this evil man and allow him to touch her, and she froze, her hands refusing to cooperate.

Seeing her hesitate, his lip twitched unhappily, but when he spoke his tone was surprisingly quiet.

“I’m a violent man. I’ve taken on a life that requires it. But I don’t take pleasure in it. I’d prefer not to force you” he finished stiffly.

She swallowed shakily and started to shift her hand down, but stopped again, moving her arm back to cover her breasts, shaking her head.

“I can’t” she choked. “I’m sorry… Please don’t make me do this” she whispered.

Reddington sighed heavily, and drained his glass before rising from his seat and moving swiftly towards her.

Liz’s eyes widened in alarm as he reached her and she cried out in fear as he grasped the back of her neck, walking her firmly towards the large chaise in the center of the room. She tried to twist around, but he pushed her down onto the pillows, his hand pressed firmly between her shoulder blades.

Holding her there with one hand, he yanked her panties down hard, the material scraping against her thighs as he unceremoniously removed her last scrap of clothing. She whimpered as she heard the clink of his belt buckle, instinctively trying to pull away. His hand returned to the back of her neck, holding her still. To her dismay she felt him part her legs with his knee and begin to rub his penis against her, gripping her tightly as he worked himself to full hardness between her legs.

Appalled, she tried again to move away, but his grip on her tightened threateningly.

“Hold still” he ordered gruffly, and she swallowed a sob, her fingers squeezing the pillows beneath her.

She felt him harden, thick and hot against her, and although she couldn’t see him she knew what was coming. She felt as though she couldn’t breathe as he pushed himself inside her, his length stinging and stretching her until it stole the air from her lungs. He was large, and she was inexperienced, her last boyfriend having been back in her freshman year. This was nothing like the inept but harmless fumble that had been her first time; Reddington was cold, measured and brutal, each stroke increasing in pace and pushing painfully against her cervix.

Soon the punishing rhythm he’d set became erratic, and he grunted quietly as he ejaculated, thrusting against her bottom while the warmth of his semen filled her. Eventually he stilled against her and for a moment neither of them moved, the sound of his quickened breathing seeming to fill the otherwise silent room.

A second later it was over, and she lay there numbly as he withdrew from her, listening to the rustle of material and the sound of his zip as he fixed his pants. It struck her that he’d not said a word while he was inside her, so that when he spoke to her now it seemed deafening, though his tone was quiet.

“You belong to me. You need to understand what that means. The sooner you adjust, the better.”

He turned and left the room without waiting for her respond. Only when she was alone did Liz allow silent tears to flow, picking up her dress and covering herself up, though she felt no less naked and violated for it. Waiting until she was sure he had gone to bed, she made her way upstairs to her room and curled up on the bed, sobbing as she thought about the bleak future he had planned for her.


	4. Chapter 4

The next morning Liz stayed in her room, terrified of bumping into Reddington if she went downstairs. There was a knock at her bedroom door and she jumped, trembling at the thought that it might be him. The door opened before she could answer, and a man she hadn’t seen before entered carrying a black doctors’ bag. He smiled briefly at her and she guessed he was in his early forties, though it was hard to tell.

“Miss Scott” he said politely. “I’m Dr Russell, Mr Reddington’s personal physician. I understand you need to arrange birth control.”

Liz stared at him, her mind swirling. Birth control… She’d been so shocked at the events of the previous night that the risk of her becoming pregnant hadn’t even occurred to her. It had to Reddington though, so much so that he’d arranged for someone to see her the next morning, she thought bitterly. She swallowed and nodded, and the doctor smiled stiffly.

“I’ll give you a shot which will cover you from next week, but you’ll also need Plan B for today” he told her without meeting her eye. “The shot is good for thirteen weeks, then I’ll be back to renew it” he finished, removing the necessary items from his bag.

Liz nodded numbly, taking in the implications of what he was saying. This wasn’t a one-off. This was her life now. She didn’t have a choice. She winced as he gave her the shot, but said nothing. Once it was done, he handed her a pill in a small paper cup and a bottle of water.

“Thank you” she said automatically, setting it down on a side table.

The doctor cleared his throat. “I need to see you take it, Miss Scott” he said uncomfortably.

She looked at him in disbelief, but then the pieces fell quickly into place. Of course – Reddington wasn’t a man to leave anything to chance. She grabbed the pill and swallowed it, before opening her mouth to show the doctor she had really taken it.

He smiled at her again, but Liz noted it was strained. She watched as he gathered his things, and decided to take a chance.

“Dr Russell – if that’s even your real name… Can I ask you something?”

The doctor looked up nervously and then shook his head. “I’m sorry Miss Scott, I really have to be going now” he told her, turning to leave.

“First do no harm” Liz blurted then, and the doctor looked round at her, his face pale.

“How can you work for a man like Reddington?” Liz asked then. “You know what he is. What _this_ is” she said. “I can see it in your eyes. You took an oath to help people. How could you do this?”

He gave her a look that was almost fearful, running a hand over his brow, his eyes darting about him.

“I’m sorry” he whispered then. “I really am.”

“Then help me” she said in a low voice. “He’s keeping me-” she began, but the doctor shook his head vehemently.

“I can’t” he said in a harsh whisper, cutting her off. “Please understand. I have a family. A wife and two boys. I’ve done what I can for you.”

“Yeah, Reddington’s dirty work” Liz said scathingly.

“You want to get pregnant?” the doctor hissed back. “To be forced to have his child? Here? The best I can do is protect you from that.”

Liz stared at him in chastened silence as he bade her goodbye and hastily left the room. She wanted to scream but she knew he was right. He had done what he could. After all, she was there because Reddington had threatened her father, and she couldn’t be foolish enough to think that he wouldn’t threaten other people’s families too. Reddington was a monster, and she would never escape.

* * *

Days passed and Liz hadn’t seen Reddington again, although her breath caught every time she heard the front door slam or footsteps in the hall. Sometimes she felt his presence so clearly that she was convinced he was watching her, though he was never there when she turned round. She found herself wondering fearfully whether she was the first girl he had kept like this, or whether there had been others. If there had been, where were they and what had he done to them?

One morning when Liz went down to breakfast, she found the mysterious housekeeper in the kitchen and decided to see if she could get any more information from her about her captor.

“What does he do all day?” Liz asked as casually as she could.

“I can’t say” the beady-eyed woman answered as she busied herself in the kitchen. “I’m not privy to his itinerary - unless he requires my services” she added mysteriously.

“What services?” Liz asked slowly.

“Cleaning services” Kaplan responded briskly.

Liz looked at her appraisingly, her neat, formal attire, angular glasses and superior manor, and a shudder went through her. She had a feeling that whatever it was that the housekeeper did for Reddington, it didn’t involve washing dishes.

“I need to ask something” Liz said quietly.

“Yes?”

Liz took a deep breath, and decided to voice her fears. “Have there been others? Other girls, I mean. Like me. What happened to them?”

The housekeeper stopped what she was doing and fixed Liz with an unreadable expression. “No” she answered finally. “Not like you.”

Liz nodded, the answer bringing her some relief. “Why is he doing this to me?” she asked quietly, unable to meet the housekeeper’s eye.

The woman shook her head, and gave Liz a look that could have passed for pity.

“I don’t know, Dearie. I don’t know. Perhaps…” she paused then. “If I didn’t know better I’d say he wants the company, in his own way. Lord knows he spends enough time alone. Maybe if you talk to him-”

“I don’t want to talk to him!” Liz said heatedly, cutting the woman off. “I don’t want to have anything to do with him! He’s a monster.”

* * *

After breakfast, Liz took the opportunity to explore the house a little. Her curiosity regarding the forbidden west wing burned harder each day, but so far she’d managed to resist breaking the one rule he had given her. In moments where she let her fears run away with her, she’d imagined the secret part of the house to be an elaborate torture chamber where she would make the horrifying discovery of the bodies of previous girls Reddington had kidnapped. Like Bluebeard, he would threaten to take her life and she would have to use her wits to stall him and find a way to survive.

It was, she thought, difficult to imagine outsmarting Reddington; aside from his quiet brutality, he was thoughtful, measured and highly intelligent. If she were ever to find a way out, it wouldn’t be through trickery. She wondered about his past, about what had happened to him, and if finding out his secrets would be the key to her salvation.

As she made her way through the sprawling grounds of the house she discovered a large glass conservatory which boasted numerous roses and other climbing plants running beautifully wild. Enchanted, she entered to get a closer look and felt her stomach lurch as she saw him sitting in the corner of the room.

He was dressed a little more casually than usual in a shirt unbuttoned at the collar, a newspaper balanced on his knee and a pen in his hand. She immediately turned to leave, but it was too late; he’d seen her.

“Miss Scott” he said sharply, and she turned back to him in silence, keeping her eyes lowered.

“I see you’ve discovered the orangery” he said stiffly. “What do you think of it?”

Liz swallowed uncomfortably, unable to prevent memories of the last time she’d seen him flooding into her consciousness.

“It’s beautiful” she said tightly.

“Yes” he agreed, tossing his newspaper on the table beside him. “The Portland Roses are particularly fine at this time of year.”

Liz pressed her lips together, desperate to get away from him. Did he really want her to stand there and make small talk after their last encounter?

When she didn’t respond, Reddington arose from his seat and walked over to her. He stood looking down at her, his hands thrust casually in his pockets. She couldn’t meet his eye and for a moment they remained still, Reddington apparently more comfortable with the awkward silence than she was.

“Look at me” he said eventually, and with effort, Liz turned her large blue eyes up to meet his.

“You’re upset with me” he surmised, looking down at her appraisingly.

“ _Upset_ ” she repeated in disbelief. “You… What you did…”

“I simply took what was mine” he said neutrally. “What you offered in exchange for your father’s life. You may be young, Miss Scott, but I doubt you are so naive that you were unaware of what our arrangement would entail.”

“No” Liz answered tightly.

“Good” he said briskly. “However, if you are now unwilling to continue with our agreement-”

“I’m not” said hurriedly. “You leave my father alone!”

Reddington nodded. “Okay then. Be a good girl and you have my word your father will come to no harm.”

Liz took a deep breath. “It’s just, I thought… I thought you could ask first. Please” she said, her voice faltering.

Reddington frowned a little, though he wasn’t angry at her request, as she feared he might be.

“To ask would imply you have a choice, which would be… disingenuous” he answered slowly.

Liz bit her lip hard to prevent the wave of fear and frustration she felt from bursting out of her. She glanced over to the table where he’d left his newspaper, the pen he’d held lying neatly on top of the crossword.

Reddington followed her gaze and his mouth twitched into a smirk.

“Would you look at that. Perhaps you’re not quite as innocent as I thought, Miss Scott” he mused, his eyes sparkling with interest.

“I don’t know what you mean” she said defensively.

“Don’t lie to me” he chastised. “You’re no good at it. You were imagining grabbing that pen and jamming it _hard_ into my carotid, weren’t you.”

Liz’s cheeks turned scarlet; it was like he’d read her mind. Cold fear slipped down inside her, but strangely he seemed interested rather than angry.

“There’s a darkness in you I bet you haven’t even _begun_ to explore. A fire burning behind those soft ways of yours” he murmured.

Liz shook her head vehemently. “I’m not like that. You choose to see darkness in other people because it’s all you have.”

Reddington barked a laugh in response. “Nevertheless I think I’ll sleep with my bedroom door locked from now on, now that I know the sweet girl down the corridor is fantasising about my demise” he teased. “What else do you fantasise about, Miss Scott?” he added, his voice deepening.

Liz was so uncomfortable she felt her skin burning with embarrassment, sure that she must be bright red all over by now.

“You know locking your door wouldn’t do any good” she snapped. “Picking locks is easy.”

Reddington smirked in amusement at her outburst. “Is that so. Do I sense a history of teenage rebellion under that butter-wouldn’t-melt exterior?”

“No” she said firmly. “It’s just… I like locks. Taking them apart, figuring them out. Like a puzzle. My father showed me how. It was fun when I was a kid” she conceded, annoyed at herself for giving something personal away.

She expected him to mock her again but he merely nodded, a fleeting distant look crossing his features before his controlled visage returned.

“By the way” he said airily, stepping away from her ostensibly to examine a plant. “Your services at the auction proved valuable. I’d like you to accompany me to a meeting next week.”

“A meeting” Liz said warily. “What kind of meeting?”

“A business meeting of sorts” Reddington said, running his finger thoughtfully over the petal of a pure white rose. “Though be advised the stakes are considerably higher this time. This particular individual won’t think twice about dispatching both of us if he feels he is being played.”

Liz’s eyes widened in alarm. “And will he?” she asked. “Be played, I mean. Or will you be completely honest this time?”

Reddington laughed mirthlessly. “I’m never completely honest. Where would be the fun in that?”

He walked back over to her, and Liz stiffened as he put his hands firmly on her shoulders.

“So” he said, searching her eyes shrewdly. “Do you think you are up to it?”

Liz nodded silently and Reddington surprised her by smiling at her gently in a manner that looked almost genuine.

“Good. Then let’s discuss the details.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNING: This chapter contains graphic non-con, please avoid if this triggers or offends!

In stark contrast to the auction where Liz had improvised their play, Reddington had insisted on going over every inch of the plan with her several times before their next exploit. They were to meet with a man called Maximillian Fielding – better known as ‘The Night Dragon’ - who, Reddington had informed her casually, was a corporate intelligence thief who was being paid to steal information from Triton International Energy as to the location of newly discovered oil deposits.

Fielding had the obtained the digital documents already, but had hired Reddington to arrange for the information to be interpreted by a suitably discrete expert in preparation for the sale. Their game, he told her, was to provide false information to Fielding, while stealing the file for Reddington to resell to the highest bidder. Liz was to pose as a petroleum geologist, a role for which she felt appallingly underprepared, even after Reddington’s surprisingly patient prep sessions.

As they drove in silence towards the designated meeting place, a closed nightclub, Liz felt his stormy grey gaze on her.

“Nervous?” he enquired.

Liz turned to him warily. “You’re asking me to operate in your world. To pretend to be an expert in something I know nothing about. Of course I’m nervous.”

“The best cover stories are the ones closest to the truth. Your alias is a precocious young college professor, that should come easily to you.”

“Is she also being held hostage by a criminal mastermind?” Liz said quietly.

“You’ll be fine” he answered firmly, ignoring her comment. “All you need to do is insert the USB drive and it will do the rest. If you run into any trouble, read the room. Distract them, play on their weaknesses. You’re good at that. Besides” he said, looking at her intently. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

Liz colored a little, and couldn’t help wondering whether he actually cared for her in any way. Was it possible that he’d come to see her as anything other than a possession to be used? It was a dangerous thought and she shook it away, trying instead to focus on the upcoming meeting.

* * *

When they arrived she was alarmed to be searched by armed guards who, after thoroughly checking them over, escorted them to a darkened room at the back of the club. She wondered bleakly how Reddington intended to protect them both if he was unarmed and they were surrounded by people with automatic weapons.

A faint smell of liquor lingered around glittering tables and plush velvet seats, and when they entered a refined man in his thirties stood up from behind a laptop and came over to greet them.

“Raymond” he said in a clipped British accent, “thank you for coming, and do accept my apologies for the venue – the owner is an old school acquaintance with rather ostentatious taste.”

“I’m less concerned about the upholstery than I am the welcoming committee” Reddington said coldly, nodding to the armed guards.

“Ah yes, a necessary evil” the man said with an apologetic smile. “I assure you it’s no reflection on you or your delightful associate” he continued, eyeing Liz appreciatively.

Reddington pursed his lips disapprovingly, but turned and gestured to Liz.

“Maximillian, I’d like you to meet Angelica Orli, a rising star in Earth Sciences at MIT.”

Liz frowned inwardly at the alias he had chosen for her, wondering if he was having a joke at her expense. Feilding shook her hand, and although it was subtle, she saw his eyes flicker over her body before he released her. She wondered if Reddington had noticed.

“I must say, I’m afraid when I pictured a science professor I was imagining a wild-haired old man. I’ve never been more enchanted to find myself so mistaken” he said, twinkling at her.

Reddington’s expression grew stony. “She may be young, but she’s one of the most extraordinary assets I have.”

“Of that, I have no doubt” Fielding said smoothly. “Now if you’ll allow me to introduce an associate of mine” he continued, beckoning a surly looking middle-aged man.

“This is John Smith – not his real name as you might have guessed, but it’ll do for our purposes. He’s an IT assistant at Triton International Energy, and my inside man. He’s here in case you require any assistance accessing the files, Miss Orli.”

“Thanks but I should be fine” Liz said, adopting an air of confidence she didn’t feel. “Triton has custom end-to-end field management capabilities, but it still uses the same ERP system that most of the bigger companies rely on.”

Reddington removed his fedora and tossed it casually on a table. “You see? In a situation like this, the girl is second to none. She honestly makes my head spin.”

He sounded so genuine that Liz wondered whether he really meant what he was saying about her. Her heart began to pound even faster, but she tried to focus and go along with Reddington’s act.

“Where can I set up?” she asked coolly.

“Please” Fielding said, gesturing to the laptop sitting at a corner table booth which looked like it had seen its fair share of expensive lap dances. He stood a few steps away, watching her with interest.

Typing on the laptop, Liz went through the steps they’d practiced, and looked up to see ‘John’ the IT assistant looking over at her suspiciously.

“What programme are you using?” he asked.

“What’s it to you?” Liz responded mildly while remaining focussed on the screen.

“Just asking. _Bitch_ ” he added under his breath and Liz saw Reddington’s eyes narrow.

“Got trouble with a female boss, huh?” Liz jibed. “Is that why you’re selling out?”

The man scoffed in a way that told Liz she’d hit the mark. “Let’s just say I’m an entrepreneur.”

Fielding observed this exchange in amusement. “And where would I be without _entrepreneurs_ to aid my endeavours, hmmm? And what about you, Angelica” he continued. “Why is a sweet young college professor doing business with the notorious Raymond Reddington?”

Liz looked up at him with a knowing smile that she hoped was convincing. “Well, I’d guess I’m doing it for the same reason you do what you do.”

“And what might that be?” Fielding asked with a mischievous smile.

Liz bit her lip coquettishly and slipped out from the booth to sit on the table in front of him, obscuring his view as she smoothly slid the USB drive Reddington had given her into the laptop behind her.

“I’m doing it because of my father.”

She saw Reddington’s eye twitch in her peripheral vision as she spoke, his icy gaze fixed hard on her.

“I’m intrigued” Fielding answered obliviously, leaning in to her, his eyes glancing over her. “What makes you think you and I have that in common?”

“Well…” she said with a flirtatious smile. “That’s quite an accent you have there, Mr Fielding – upper class, privately educated… privileged, and everything that comes with that, including a father with expectations that are impossible to meet. I bet he had your life all planned out. But you had other ideas. Does he know what you do?”

Fielding huffed a laugh. “Quite the little mind reader, aren’t you” he murmured. “Though the old man’s been dead for a few years now – didn’t even have the decency to hang around to see the ridiculous amount of money I made for myself.”

Now…” he said, lowering his voice and brushing her cheek with the crook of his index finger. “I’m going to have a look at what you’ve done there, and then if everything’s in order, how about we go somewhere more private… maybe work out our daddy issues?”

Liz tried to maintain her flirtatious smile, but her heart was thundering with panic. If he looked at the laptop now he’d see the USB drive and the programme it was running, not to mention the fact that he seemed to expect her to leave with him. She glanced quickly at Reddington.

“What the _hell_ do you think you’re doing?” Reddington barked, causing Fielding to spin round in shock.

“I conduct a professional business and you have the _audacity_ to proposition one of my employees right under my nose?” Reddington continued, his show of outrage so convincing that Liz wondered if it was genuine.

Taking advantage of the distraction, she glanced at the screen, saw that the programme was done and removed the USB drive, slipping it securely under the band of her watch.

She looked back to see Fielding raising his hands in a conciliatory manner. “Mr Reddington, please accept my apologies - I got a little carried away. I meant no offence.”

“Well frankly I _am_ offended” Reddington snapped. “And don’t get any ideas” he said, waving his hand dismissively at one of the armed guards behind him who had cocked his weapon. “ _Unbelievable_. Angelica, we’re leaving.”

Liz smiled apologetically at Fielding. “Your file is ready, I’ve saved it to the desktop. It was nice to meet you. And you, Mr _Smith_ ” she added, nodding to the disgruntled IT assistant.

Reddington put his hand firmly between Liz’s shoulder blades and steered her towards the exit.

“Not so fast” Fielding said, and an icy knot formed in Liz’s stomach as an armed guard blocked their exit.

“What now?” Reddington growled.

Fielding waved his phone at them. “As you’ve noticed, I take security very seriously and that includes cyber security. I’ve just been notified that there was an unauthorised upload from this room.”

Liz froze inside, waiting for him to accuse her.

“What do you have to say for yourself, Mr Smith?” Fielding continued, turning on the IT assistant.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” the man spluttered.

“You expect me to believe the company laptop _you_ supplied is uploading unauthorised information and you, the corrupt IT guy, have nothing to do with it? Thought you could double cross me and make an extra buck on the side?”

As he spoke he removed a gun from a holster under his suit jacket and pointed it at the shaking man.

“We have to do something!” Liz whispered urgently to Reddington.

“ _Quiet_ ” he hissed.

“I can’t let him do this!” she said, and stepped forward before Reddington could stop her.

“Wait!” she blurted. “It was me. I just wanted to study Triton’s schematics, for personal research. I wasn’t trying to double cross you and I certainly never meant to get anyone into trouble. I’m sorry” she said, turning to Reddington, who looked thunderous.

Fielding’s expression darkened. “Is that so. You’ll find in this business, curiosity can kill” he said, turning his gun on Liz.

“Fielding!” Reddington barked. “You don’t kill one of my people. She’s my asset, I decide how to deal with her” he growled.

“I’m sorry Raymond, she tried to steal from me. You know how this works” he said, cocking his weapon.

Reddington moved so fast then that Liz barely had time to register what was going on. He’d reached behind him and pulled an automatic weapon out of the hand of a guard, and sprayed bullets across the room, hitting Fielding and causing mayhem as bullets shattered glass. He gripped her arm tightly and a moment later he was dragging her away, propelling her in front of him and firing back as shots rang out behind them.

Liz’s heart was pounding as they ran down a corridor towards the exit, the sound of gunfire getting louder and louder behind her. Suddenly he pushed her down to the floor and she could barely breathe as she felt his weight on top of her, the noise deafening her as he fired back down the corridor. She tried to lift her head up but he pushed her back down immediately, his rapid breathing hot against her ear.

Her head was spinning with adrenaline and it took her a moment to realise that there was a break in the sound of gunfire. Before she could catch her breath he was pulling her to her feet and marching her through the exit towards the waiting black Mercedes. The driver leapt out of the car and opened the door, and Reddington bundled her into the back, following her inside and slamming the door as the car sped away into the night.

* * *

Liz was still shaking with adrenaline when they arrived back at the house, but Reddington marched straight upstairs without a word. She frowned then as she noticed splashes of blood on the light marbled floor of the hall. She stood there, unsure of herself, and eventually made a decision. She went gingerly up the stairs after him, and followed the trail of red spots to his bedroom door which stood ajar. Taking a deep breath, she entered the room and saw him sitting on the end of the bed with his shirt half off, dabbing awkwardly at a wound on his bicep.

She swallowed, taking in the scene in front of her; although he’d had sex with her, she hadn’t seen him dressed in anything less than a formal shirt. From what she could see, his chest was strong, muscular and peppered with coarse, graying hair, though it was the wound on his arm that commanded her attention most.

“Oh my God, you were shot!” she exclaimed from the doorway. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

He grimaced as he pressed a cloth against his arm. “It’s just a scratch” he said tightly. “Make yourself useful and pass me a dressing” he instructed gruffly, nodding to the first aid kit laid out on the table.

“Aren’t you going to clean the wound first?” she asked, dismayed. “All that oil and grease, it’s bound to get infected. Let me.”

Grabbing a fresh gauze from the first aid kit, she soaked it in antiseptic lotion and approached him cautiously, perching beside him on the bed. He said nothing, only watched her intently, and she took his silence for permission. She began to clean the wound and he hissed in pain, his arm jerking a little.

“If you’d hold still it wouldn’t hurt as much” Liz said firmly, the events of the evening making her bold.

“If you hadn’t foolishly attempted to intervene on behalf of that man, it wouldn’t have happened” he retorted darkly.

“Then you shouldn’t have brought someone who gives a damn about what happens to people!” she snapped, her temper flaring.

She could feel his stormy eyes boring into her, and she gulped as she focussed on finishing her first aid task. Finally she pressed a fresh dressing down onto his arm, and looked up warily to meet his eye.

“By the way… Thank you” she said softly. “For saving my life.”

Reddington’s mouth twitched. “It’s in my interest to protect my assets. If word gets out that I allowed a client to kill a contractor of mine it would be extremely bad for business” he said stiffly, looking away from her.

“Wow” Liz said, exhaling sharply. “You are so damaged. You’d rather pretend to be cold and calculating than admit that you risked your life to save someone. You can’t admit that you care what happens to me. That underneath it all, you can be a good man.”

He looked back to her then, his expression so unfathomable that she couldn’t tell what she was seeing in him, whether sadness, anger, desire or something more complicated. Her heart was beating as fast as it had back at the club, and her gaze moved momentarily to his mouth. Suddenly she felt his hand come up to the back of her head and grip her hair roughly before he pressed his lips to hers in a bruising kiss.

The adrenaline of the evening was coursing through her, fear but also something else she couldn’t name, and didn’t want to. She felt herself responding, parting her lips and granting entry to his probing tongue. The kiss was hungry, and passionate and like nothing she’d ever experienced in her life. He broke away from her as quickly as he’d begun, panting, his expression as wild as his kiss had been.

She went to move back, to distance herself from the disturbing feelings that coiled inside her, but he gripped her hair harder, forcing her head back. She gasped as his mouth moved to her exposed neck, kissing, sucking, marking her, his teeth grazing her collar bone. He pushed her back on the bed, discarding his shirt before pulling off her top and continuing his assault on her neck and breasts. He reminded her of an animal, she thought hazily, a beast determined to hide any semblance of humanity behind raw, licentious behavior.

She yelped as he bit the sensitive flesh of her breast, the warmth of his bare chest burning against her skin and making her squirm underneath him. He paused to push down his pants, and she instinctively kicked out at him in an effort to slow the onslaught.

“None of that” he said gruffly, deflecting the blow easily and kneeling painfully on the offending leg.

He proceeded to pull her jeans and underwear down before pinning her hands above her head. This time he entered her with a single, slick thrust, capturing her cry with his mouth. He rode her struggles easily until they set a strange, erotic rhythm, and Liz felt a deep warmth begin to stir in her belly.

She bucked into him instinctively and he groaned loudly, his breath hot in her ear. He began to pour out a litany of obscenities, her name rolling gruff and breathless off his tongue. 

“Elizabeth… Lizzie… That’s what your father called you, isn’t it? Sweet little Lizzie. You’re so wet for me… Such a needy girl… I want you to come for me. Come, Lizzie.”

He was like an animal, vulgar, violent and untamed. It both disgusted and aroused her, and, to her dismay, when he thrust his hand down between her legs to stimulate her further she cried out involuntarily, the warmth inside her igniting into sparks of pleasure she couldn’t help but chase. When it came, she whimpered and fluttered around him with the force of her orgasm, and he followed her with a coarse cry, spilling hot and deep inside her.

“Good _God_ … _Lizzie_ …”

In the moments afterwards, their eyes locked and, far from the cold, controlled man she’d come to expect, his expression was raw, and almost vulnerable. She felt such a profound sense of connection to him then that, without thinking, she reached up and gently stroked his cheek. He drew back sharply as though he’d been stung, his mask of cold indifference returning.

He moved from the bed, quickly buttoning his shirt and pants, and Liz felt her cheeks burning. She pulled up her jeans while wiping away tears of rage and rejection.

“I guess I should update my profile of you” she told him angrily, swallowing the lump in her throat.

“You can’t allow yourself be vulnerable for a second. You can’t let anyone in. God forbid you believe I’d actually want to be with you. You have to dominate, to have utter control. You’d be terrified without it, terrified that someone will see how much you’re hurting. That someone will actually care!”

“And what about you, hmmm?” he barked in response, fixing her with a penetrating stare. “You seem rather quick to relinquish control. I think you want to be dominated. You were so afraid of freedom that you sold yourself to me like a wanton little chattel” he finished viciously.

His words hit her like a punch in the gut and she couldn’t stop the tears slipping freely down her cheeks.

“Did it occur to you that it was the hardest thing I’ve ever done?” she said, biting back sobs. “That it’s possible to love someone enough to sacrifice everything for them? What the hell happened to you to turn you into such a monster?” she spat, shaking her head.

To her surprise he had no retort, only a look that was suddenly so lost and distant that she wondered if he even remembered where he was. When he didn’t answer, she wiped her face with her palms, turned and left the room, knowing that, at least for now, he was too lost in his thoughts to punish her.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING: Non-consensual touching. Please do not read if this triggers or offends.

A few days later she returned to her bedroom to find a large box and an envelope on her bed. The note was addressed in red ink to “Lizzie”, and her stomach fluttered a little as she recalled her last encounter with Reddington during which he’d whispered her nickname to her as though it were an obscene act he wished to commit.

She opened the envelope to find an invitation to the opera that evening inside. Frowning, Liz removed the lid of the box and gasped as she saw a beautiful evening gown in midnight blue silk, the neckline decorated with delicate black lace. She tried it on and discovered that it fitted beautifully, though, to her dismay, it featured a rather daring thigh high slit in the material.

That evening as she carefully fixed her hair and makeup, she was disconcerted to find that she couldn’t stop thinking about Reddington and the last time she’d seen him. He was violent, cold and calculating, but she knew now that there was something else in him as well. The man underneath the cold exterior was passionate, even vulnerable. A man who she knew had risked his life to save her, no matter how much he denied it.

Was the opera just another opportunity to trap a business associate, or could it be a twisted version of a date? The ease with which the thought entered her head was extremely troubling to her. She was prisoner to a ruthless killer, a monster who had violated her repeatedly.

Yet with each passing day she was thinking of him more sympathetically, as a man with a mysterious, troubled past and a depth of feeling she had only begun to discover. As she put the finishing touches to her makeup she hoped against hope that it was the man and not the monster who had invited her out that evening.

She stepped out of her room at the allotted time, and she had to admit that part of her was looking forward to seeing his reaction when he saw her descend the stairs in her dress. She was confused when she reached the hall and saw not Reddington, but his driver.

“Ma’am” the thin, gray-haired man said politely. “Mr Reddington has instructed me to convey you to the opera house. He’s returning from a business trip and will meet you there.”

“Oh. Okay!” said Liz, trying to hide her disappointment.

The driver cleared his throat. “He sent this ahead” he told her, holding out a large black velvet box.

Her curiosity piqued, Liz opened the box and her mouth dropped open when she saw what was inside; a pair of diamond drop earrings and a matching necklace, the stones set delicately along a twisted rose vine. It was exquisite.

“Mr Reddington requests that you wear these tonight” the driver informed her.

“He requests that, huh” Liz murmured. “Well I wouldn’t dare disappoint him.”

She reached into the box and carefully put on the jewellery with the help of an ornate mirror in the hall. She took one last glance at herself before leaving, and saw that the blue of her dress and the diamonds picked up the vivid blue of her eyes. As she got into the car, she found herself hoping that Reddington would notice.

* * *

When Liz arrived at the opera house she was shown into a luxurious, quiet and dimly lit bar. She looked around and saw Reddington sitting back in an armchair wearing a luxurious tuxedo, his signature scotch in his hand. She stood nervously waiting for him to acknowledge her, and for a moment he just sat there, looking at her appraisingly, his fingers drumming on the arm of the chair.

She was just starting to feel uncomfortable when he motioned abruptly for her to approach. She took a seat opposite him, and a moment later a waiter appeared with a glass of champagne, which she nervously accepted. He raised his glass to her in silence, and she did the same before taking a sip.

“Thank you” she said politely. “For the beautiful dress and jewellery… I’ve never dressed up like this in my life” she added with a shy smile.

“My wealth is very becoming on you” he answered smoothly.

Liz reddened. It wasn’t the welcome she was hoping for, his manner cold and smug.

“I’ve never been to the opera before” Liz tried again. “What’s this one about?”

Reddington smiled sardonically in a way that made Liz nervous, as though there was a joke she didn’t understand.

“It’s Salome” he informed her casually, taking a sip of his scotch. “King Herod invites his niece to dance for him, and offers her whatever reward she chooses. Salome performs the dance of the seven veils, widely interpreted as a strip tease – _quivering_ breasts and thighs I believe the line was-” he said animatedly “and demands the severed head of John the Baptist as her prize.”

Liz blushed deeply and Reddington barked a laugh. “You’re concerned a little onstage nudity might upset your delicate sensibilities? I seem to recall you’ve overcome your initial _shyness._ ”

Liz pressed her lips together and nodded tightly. It was clear that whatever his plans were for the evening, Reddington’s guard was up.

“So, what is this?” she asked, looking him bravely in the eye. “Is there another business associate you need to trick? Don’t tell me – you need to become a patron of the opera in order to have someone owe you a favour. Or maybe there’s some female CEO you need make jealous. What’s the game this time?” she asked in a hard tone.

Reddington’s eyes narrowed at her tone and he canted his head, looking at her sharply.

“No business tonight. Only pleasure” he told her enigmatically.

Liz was still deciding whether to question him further when an attendant arrived and spoke quietly to Reddington.

“The bell will ring shortly, Mr Rathers. May I show you to your seat now – to avoid the crush.”

Reddington downed the last of his scotch and nodded, leaving Liz confused at the name the attendant had used and the subtle but clear implication that he needed to avoid the crowd. By the time they reached the private box, Liz had realised that of course a man like Reddington would need an alias to go to a public place. Of course he would need to avoid crowds, in case he was recognised. She thought how lonely it must be for him to have the kind of life where he always had to look over his shoulder.

Their lofty seats afforded a perfect view of both the stage and the vast expanse of the auditorium, making Liz feel a little giddy. Reddington took his seat in a wearily casual manner, which told her he was much more used to such opulent outings than she was.

He did not look at her and after a pause she sat silently beside him, her body tense as she tried to focus on the stage as though they were any other normal couple having an evening out. The thought seemed faintly ridiculous, but she had to try; no one could know the truth that she was his prisoner.

The performance was entrancing, so wild and dramatic that for a while Liz forgot where she was and who she was with, focussing only on the stage, her lips slightly parted in awe. She was abruptly brought back to reality when she felt his hand come to rest on her knee, nonchalantly parting the material where the slit in her evening dress lay.

She tensed immediately, her eyes darting around to see if anyone had noticed, but the audience’s eyes were fixed on the stage. Reddington’s own gaze remained on the performance, but to her dismay, his hand began to move higher, rubbing in little circles on her thigh until he reached her underwear.

“What are you doing?” she hissed in alarm.

He tilted his head without looking at her. “I would have thought that was obvious” he murmured. “Just a little fun to liven up the evening’s entertainment.”

Liz swallowed, her cheeks burning as he began to run his finger slowly down the cleft at the center of her silk panties.

“It’s a beautiful performance” she whispered tightly, shifting in her seat to pull away from him. “Please don’t ruin it.”

His eyes remained on the stage, but she felt him stiffen in displeasure next to her as she moved.

“Open your legs” he growled softly.

Liz felt her blush deepen, her neck prickling in discomfort.

“ _No_ ” she ground out. “Someone might see!”

“Well if they _could_ , that would be quite a game, wouldn’t it” he responded coolly. “Over a thousand audience members watching the stage. All it would take is for one person to be distracted for a moment by the pretty young woman squirming in her seat.”

Liz felt tears of humiliation sting her eyes. “Please” she whispered desperately, but it was no good.

“Open your legs or I’ll take you back to the house, strip you, tie you down on the dining room table and play with you in whatever way I see fit” he threatened in a low voice. “I’d have no end of fun, but I don’t believe the experience would be particularly pleasant for you.”

Liz closed her eyes, swallowing hard as she obeyed him, reluctantly parting her legs and allowing him to resume his ministrations.

“Good girl” he said, patting her thigh before slipping his finger gently beneath the silk of her underwear and sliding it between her legs. Her breath hitched in shame and disbelief as he began touching her intimately, and she looked desperately around her again, checking that no one was looking at her.

“The more you fidget the more likely you’ll draw attention to yourself” Reddington informed her.

“I know what you’re doing” Liz whispered tightly. “You set up a romantic evening to get my guard down, and then you act like a monster to show me I’m wrong about you, that you’re not a good man-”

She broke off then, gasping as he slid a finger inside her.

“I suggest you try to concentrate on the performance” he murmured.

“That’s kind of hard to do” she bit back in quiet anger.

“Yes, I can tell you’re easily distracted” he said with a smirk. “You’re clearly quite… _diverted_ by our little game, however much you protest” he finished smugly.

Liz’s face burned, partly with embarrassment, and partly with anger because she knew that he was right. Painful as it was to admit, his finger was now sliding easily between her legs as her arousal grew, her clit swollen and aching to be stroked. Even with her psychology training she found it hard to admit that she could be attracted to the ruthless, older criminal who was holding her hostage, and equally unlikely that she was aroused by the prospect of public humiliation.

Yet to her dismay, she soon felt the first frissons of orgasm begin to stir inside her, like the sweetest itch that he would alleviate if he just moved a little higher, pressed a little harder. She swallowed in shame as she realised she had subconsciously shifted a little in her seat to guide his finger, and she was surprised to find that he obliged her by picking up on her subtle signal. He added a second finger, working her arousal gently over her clit until her breath hitched and sweetness began to unfurl powerfully inside her.

In that moment she tried to stop it, to bring her mind back to the reality that she was his prisoner, but it was too late; she twitched helplessly under his fingers as she came, and heard his breath quicken slightly, the only sign that he was at all affected by the encounter. He allowed his hand to rest there for a moment, before carefully removing his fingers and, to Liz’s astonishment, bringing them to his lips and savouring the taste of her.

She stared at him in disbelief, but his gaze remained nonchalantly on the stage.

“You really don’t care, do you?” she breathed. “What people think of you.”

“Not in the slightest” he replied casually. “But if you’re referring to this apparent display of exhibitionism, I can assure you that no one can see a thing that goes on in this box.”

“ _What?_ ” Liz spluttered in disbelief.

“I prefer to do my playing in private” he said with a small smirk. “And as you will have observed, when one occupies a position on the FBI’s most wanted list, discretion is rather important.”

“But you said-”

“No, you assumed” he said airily.

Liz gaped at him but, but decided not to pursue it further.

Smoothing her dress across her legs, she attempted to regain her focus on the performance but try as she might, she couldn’t stop thinking about the man sitting next to her, his nature violent, erotic, and unpredictable.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNING – PLEASE READ.
> 
> This chapter features Reddington being angry and violent towards Liz. This is not something canon Red would ever do, but this story is inspired by Beauty and the Beast, and features a violent and damaged version of Red. There is light at the end of the tunnel, however! Things definitely improve after this chapter. Nonetheless, please do not read if this triggers or offends, or if you don’t want to see Red behaving in this way. You have been warned.

After the night at the opera, Liz reached a decision. Reddington’s appalling behavior had the opposite effect to the one he intended. He’d tried too hard to convince her that he was a depraved monster, but she’d seen another side of him now and she wasn’t going to let it go. He was complex, passionate, and, deep down, a good man. She had to admit it to herself now; she was deeply drawn to him. Something had happened to him to make him the way he is. She was going to find out what, and she had a feeling the answer was hiding in the mysterious west wing. 

She waited till the coast was clear and crept out of her room and along the corridor that led to the forbidden part of the house. It was locked as she’d assumed it would be, but she’d come prepared. She was equipped with the wire from a picture hanging in her room, and a paper clip that had been attached to a delivery order note left on the kitchen table. She worked quickly, grateful that the lock-picking skills her father had taught her as a child were still up to scratch. 

When she entered and closed the door quietly behind her, she realised immediately that it wasn’t at all what she was expecting. She’d imagined that in addition to hiding his secrets, the mysterious part of the house would be the venue for Reddington’s most nefarious activities – storing illegal weapons, or drug production perhaps – but at first glance it looked more like a family home. There were floral cushions on the window seats, ornaments on the walls and a well-loved carpet beneath her feet. The only thing out of the ordinary were strange faded marks and empty hooks on the walls where pictures had once been hung.

She opened a door to a room that looked like a sitting room, and noted the lived-in atmosphere that stood in sharp contrast to the rest of the house. The tables had stacks of books, and the record player lid stood open, as if someone was going to start playing music at any moment. The only tell-tale sign that the occupant was long gone was the thick layer of dust that covered everything in the room.

She took a step forward and felt something hard under her foot. Bending down she picked up the object and frowned as she saw that it was a small plastic doll with a pink dress and matted blonde hair. _What on earth was this doing in Reddington’s house_ , she thought. Intrigued, she returned to the corridor and went to investigate the other rooms, beginning with the room that stood under a wide white arch, a child’s crumpled drawing of a rainbow taped to the door.

She entered the room and gasped as she saw what appeared to be a little girl’s bedroom; the bed was fit for a princess with a pink canopy and stuffed animals strewn across it. A large doll’s house stood by the window and the floor was littered with toys and games. In the corner, a table was laid with a mini floral tea-set, with teddy bears arranged around it as if still waiting for their host.

A sick feeling began to settle in her stomach. Was it possible that Reddington was even more sick and evil than she imagined? Was the crime lord also exploiting children from the very house where he was keeping her? She looked about her desperately, searching for any sign that a child was currently being kept there, but the room was silent, and as dusty as the sitting room had been.

Confused and panicked, she backed out of the room and continued her exploration of the wing, grasping urgently at the handle of the next door. This room was less dusty than the others, and appeared to be a study of sorts. It was piled high with books, which she noted mostly consisted of poetry and literature. Whoever the room belonged to was a fan of T.S. Eliot and William Ernst Henley, gentle and beautiful language that was difficult to imagine Reddington capable of appreciating.

She turned to the cluttered desk and picked up what appeared to be a programme for a children’s ballet production of Swan Lake, the pages worn and creased. The date at the bottom read _March 22 nd 1987_. Frowning, she allowed her eyes to roam the desk and saw that amongst the piles of books and papers stood a photograph, the first that she’d seen in the whole house. Her hand shaking, she reached out and picked it up, unsure of what she would see. As she laid eyes on the image in her hands, her stomach knotted and an unbearable clarity settled on her.

The photograph was of Reddington in younger days wearing a genuine smile, his eyes dancing with mirth and his arms encircling a laughing woman and a smiling little girl, aged no more than seven. Liz knew then without a doubt that she had discovered Reddington’s secret, and it was more heart-breaking than she had ever imagined.

He’d had a family once. This had been their home. He’d been happy – a loving father and husband. Liz couldn’t grasp what kind of tragedy had taken them from him, but she knew without a shadow of a doubt that they were long dead, and Reddington had collapsed into a broken, angry tyrant, driven by exquisite pain.

She was so full of anguish on his behalf that she didn’t hear the door open behind her.

“I warned you _never_ to come here”

She jumped violently in surprise when she heard Reddington’s growl, and to her dismay the framed photograph slipped from her hand and smashed on the floor.

“Oh no, no” she breathed, bending down to pick up the pieces. “I’m so sorry, you startled me –”

She reached to rescue the photograph from the shards of glass that surrounded it, but before she could touch it his hand wrapped around her wrist in a vice grip.

“Get _out_ ” he hissed, dragging her stumbling from the room. “You have no right to be here!”

“I’m sorry” she gasped as he manhandled her down the corridor back towards the main house. “I just wanted to understand-”

“You wanted to find out my secrets, to pry into things you have _no business_ knowing” he spat.

“Please!” she whimpered in alarm “I didn’t mean any harm, I’m sorry-”

“ _You will be_ ” he said menacingly.

Desperate panic began to stir in Liz’s stomach as she realised he intended to do more than admonish her. She struggled as they approached her bedroom, but his grip on her arm only tightened further such that she was sure it would leave a deep bruise.

When they entered the room he kicked the door shut behind them and shoved her onto her bed face down. He began to tear at his belt buckle and when he yanked down her skirt and panties she was sure he was going to force himself on her again.

When it came, the thrash of his belt on the bare flesh of her bottom was so unexpected that it took her a moment to register the pain. When she did, it was like nothing she’d ever felt, searing, hot and agonising, ripping a scream from her throat. The next blow was harder, the next harder still, as he found his balance by bracing his foot on the side of the bed and unleashed the depth of his anger and pain on her.

Before long her screams gave way to wet, wretched sobs, and the pain was too great to move or speak; she no longer had the strength to beg him to stop, nor did she believe it would do any good. Eventually the ferocity of the blows began to wane, and he came to rest, breathless from the exertion.

“You will _never_ disobey me again” he panted darkly. “Keep away from things that don’t concern you!”

Unable to speak, Liz managed a shallow nod, her face red, swollen and damp from tears. Shortly after, her bedroom door slammed shut and she lay still for hours until the pain had subsided enough for her to move. Alone with nothing but her thoughts, she chastised herself bitterly for imagining that he could be anything other than a monster, that finding out his secret would make him open up to her. Most of all, she hated herself for the feelings that she had begun to harbor for the twisted, broken man who held her captive.

Later that evening the door opened and the housekeeper Kate Kaplan entered her room quietly, carrying a tea tray which she placed on the table.

“I warned you not to cross him” she said with uncharacteristic softness. “Why did you have to go and meddle, eh dearie?” she sighed.

“I don’t know” Liz whispered. “I guess I wanted to understand him better. I wanted to know why he is this way.”

Kaplan shook her head disapprovingly. “Curiosity killed the cat, my mother used to say.”

“Why does he hate me?” Liz asked tearfully.

The housekeeper sighed. “He doesn’t hate you. He hates your innocence. You represent everything he’s lost. Now look, I’ve brought you some dinner. Eat up and get some sleep. Things may look brighter tomorrow” she said stiffly.

Liz nodded numbly. Kaplan’s usually stern features softened into a look of unmistakable pity before she turned and left the room, leaving Liz alone.

* * *

Over a week had passed since the terrible incident in the west wing, and Reddington had not seen Liz, or spoken to his housekeeper since. His presence loomed in the house like a dark shadow of anger and grief, unseen but felt keenly by everyone under the roof. One evening Kaplan steeled herself, and sought him out where he sat in solitude in the drawing room.

He occupied an armchair, shrouded in darkness, with only a small lamp to see by. The housekeeper took a few steps into the room and cleared her throat tactfully.

“Raymond, we need to talk about the girl.”

Reddington declined to answer, only sat in brooding silence, a tumbler of scotch clasped in his hand.

“Something has to be done. She’s not eating” Kaplan informed him firmly.

“Then make her” Reddington growled darkly. “Do whatever you have to do.”

“For heaven’s sake” the housekeeper scoffed. “You want me to force feed her?”

“If that’s what it takes!” Reddington snapped.

“It’s not that simple! She’s like a bird in captivity. You can’t keep her locked up like this and expect her to thrive.”

He didn’t respond and Kaplan hesitated, before coming to sit in a chair opposite him, her bony hands clasped tightly in her lap.

“Raymond… This isn’t like you. In all my years of watching you run your empire I’ve seen you maim and kill because it serves a purpose. It’s a means to an end... I’ve watched you grow colder, angrier, and I’ve kept my mouth shut. But this… This is different. I’ve never known you to be this cruel before, and make no mistake, this is an exercise in cruelty. She’s an innocent girl.”

Reddington clenched his teeth, his lip curling. “She volunteered. She knew the risks” he said tersely, taking a large sip from his glass.

“She knew _nothing_ ” Kaplan retorted. “And yet she still tried to save her father. Honestly, I think you’re keeping her to punish her.”

“Why on earth would I punish her for that?” Reddington inquired icily.

“Because she made you _feel_ again, that’s why” Kaplan hit back. “You need to make a decision. If she’s a liability, you should kill the poor girl quickly. End her suffering. If not, let her go. But don’t do this. Don’t torture her.”

“She stays here” he said gruffly, slamming his empty tumbler down on the end table.

“ _Why_?” Kaplan pressed. “What is it about this girl?”

Reddington looked away then, and the housekeeper raised her hand to her mouth with a low gasp.

“You’re _in love_ with her” she surmised quietly.

Reddington only huffed in response, and reached out to refill his tumbler.

“Then you need to do something” Kaplan urged. “You’re the only one who can solve this!”

“And what do you suggest?” Reddington asked in a hard tone. “What can I possibly do? After what I’ve done.”

The housekeeper’s mouth set in a thin, determined line. “You need to show her you’re not the monster she thinks you are.”

Reddington stared at her then, his expression haunted. When he spoke again, the anger had gone out of him, replaced by terrible regret and sadness.

“But I am, Kate. I’m every bit that monster, and more. She is… Radiant. Unpredictable. Extraordinarily brave. And I… The things I’ve done to her. I’d be fooling myself if I believed she’d ever see me as anything but a monster.”

The housekeeper met his eye determinedly. “Raymond… If there’s a shred of humanity left in you… If there’s anything left of the man you once were, you need to show it to her.”


	8. Chapter 8

Liz lay listlessly on the bed, staring at the patterns of light dancing on the wall of her room. She had no idea how long it had been since Reddington had caught her in the west wing. She’d not seen him or left her room since then. There had been a fair few food trays brought to her by the stoic housekeeper, but she’d barely eaten. She hadn’t wanted to.

The door opened and she turned her head with effort, expecting Kaplan to enter with another offering. Her eyes widened in fear when she saw it was Reddington and she shrank back on the bed with a small cry. He winced a little when he saw her reaction, his eyes creasing unhappily.

“I’m not going to hurt you” he said quietly.

She watched him warily as he approached, looking up at him, her lip trembling.

“Kate tells me you’re not eating” he continued.

She looked down in silence and Reddington cleared his throat awkwardly. He placed a brightly colored box on the edge of the bed and gestured to its contents.

“There’s a wonderful Turkish bakery near here” he began stiffly. “It’s Baklava. They make it with over thirty layers of pastry. It has pistachio and manuka honey… You should try one.”

She didn’t move or speak, and the only sound she made was the gentle gasp of her frightened breathing. He began to try again, his tone coaxing.

“Just one bite-”

“Why don’t you just kill me?” Liz whispered then, turning her face up to look at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “Stop playing these games. You hate me. You don’t want me here, you don’t need me.”

Reddington paled, his lips parting in shocked silence.

“I know you can do it” Liz continued, trying to keep her voice steady. “You’ve killed people before, you were going to kill my father… It would be _easy_ for you. My life for my father’s, that was the deal. Please… you should end this.”

She looked beseechingly at the criminal, expecting his cold demeanour to return, but to her surprise he stood there speechless, his head bowed.

“Come with me” he said eventually, his voice so quiet it was almost a whisper.

Liz swallowed and nodded, rising from the bed and following him wordlessly out of the room.

He walked silently down the corridor, and Liz forced herself to go with him, though her limbs were heavy and a voice in her head was screaming at her not to go, not to embrace the death he had planned for her, the ending she had asked for.

As they turned the corner Liz realised that he was leading her into the west wing and she faltered then, remembering all too clearly what had happened the last time she had entered the forbidden part of the house. This time she would never leave. Sensing her pause, he turned back and gestured at her to follow him.

“It’s alright” he said in a low voice. “Come.”

She continued with effort, clasping her hands together to stop them shaking. They walked past the little girl’s room and the study where he had discovered her, until they reached a room with double doors at the end of the corridor. Reddington opened the doors and gestured to her to enter.

When she went inside, the room was dark and smelled a little musty and she paused, trembling, wondering what he was going to do to her. Would he shoot her, like he was going to shoot her father? At least that would be quick. Or would he strangle her, and watch her life drain away. Even with everything he’d done to her, she couldn’t imagine that. He’d saved her life once.

“Wait here” Reddington instructed, and in the gloom she could just see him walk over to a curtain covered window. He reached up and tugged the curtain pull and suddenly the room was flooded with glorious sunlight.

Liz gasped in amazement; it was a library, the most beautiful room she had ever seen, spanning two floors of the house with balconies and hundreds of book shelves stretching from top to bottom. The ceiling of the room had a stunning painting of children playing in a meadow, and in the corner stood a beautifully carved grand piano, bathed in the light from the gigantic window.

Reddington turned to look at her then, his lip curled with unmistakable emotion.

“I had this room built when… when we bought the house. My wife and I. I haven’t set foot in it in… some time. But it shouldn’t go to waste. I know you like to read… perhaps as much as I did once” he finished distantly.

Liz frowned in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“The library is yours” he said, swallowing hard. “You can come here whenever you like.”

Liz stared at him. “But I thought… I thought you brought me here to kill me” she whispered.

Reddington hung his head, working the tension in his jaw. “No” he said quietly. “No dear girl, I’m not going do that. Apologies don’t come easily to me. But I… I am _deeply_ sorry” he said tightly.

Liz stared at him in disbelief, but before she could gather her thoughts to speak, he had already turned away, gesturing to the stacks around them.

“I’m afraid there’s not much in the way of psychology but there’s a rather fine collection of English and American Literature, also art and photography...” he trailed off, apparently lost in thought as he looked around the room.

“Thank you” Liz whispered. “This is… thank you.”

He gave a simple nod in acknowledgement and Liz went to explore, grateful for the opportunity to be on her own and process this turn of events. He was so damaged, and in so much pain, she thought sadly. She couldn’t imagine forgiving him, but then, he hadn’t asked her to. It was a simple, heartfelt apology, and in giving it to her he had also given her something of his past, though it was clearly terribly painful for him. She stole a glance behind her at the notorious criminal who suddenly seemed smaller and more human in the cavernous room.

The more she walked through the library, the more she found hidden delights; a stunning stained glass window, an ornate chair and reading desk, and a collection of first edition Brontës. She’d just discovered a charmingly illustrated children’s copy of The Sleeping Beauty when she heard the unmistakable sound of music floating up among the bookshelves. It was a haunting tune, wistful and played with such emotion that it drew Liz down from the stacks so that she could see where it was coming from.

Her mouth opened in surprise when she saw Reddington seated at the piano, his fingers moving elegantly over the keys. She was terrified of disturbing him, but too mesmerised to leave, and so sat down quietly on a nearby footstool to listen. To her relief, he continued to play, his eyes seemingly closed, and it appeared to Liz as though the piano was drawing the music out from deep inside him. Eventually his hands came to rest, and he shook his head.

“The piano is rather in need of tuning” he said stiffly.

“It was beautiful” Liz responded quietly.

Reddington swallowed. “I haven’t played in years. I’d almost forgotten what it feels like.”

He shook his head and went to stand up.

“Wait” Liz blurted. “Play some more? I mean, if you want to. I’d… like to listen” she finished shyly.

She’d caught a glimmer of humanity in him, and something inside her was desperate to see more, to see if he was at all capable of giving it to her. He looked at her in silence for a moment, and then merely nodded, returning his fingers to the keys.

Liz tucked her feet under her, and smiled softly as the music transported her, its sadness and complexity seeming to reflect the man who held her captive.

* * *

In the days since he’d brought her to the library she’d seen little of him, as though he were giving her the space she desperately needed. She wondered whether she’d made real progress with him, or whether he would relapse into the tyrant she feared so greatly. It was hard to imagine what he was feeling, and if he was even capable of feeling anything much more than the emotional pain that drove him. She wondered if it was possible that he felt something for her, and was disturbed to find herself hoping that he did. If he was ever to be free of the misery which trapped him, could she be the one to release him?

One night she had just got ready for bed when she heard a muffled crash downstairs. Pulling on a silk robe over her nightdress, she exited her room and walked cautiously down the stairs. There were no lights on that she could see, and a feeling of foreboding settled in her stomach. There was another thud, followed by whispered voices. She followed the noises until she entered the drawing room and saw two men, one of them rifling through Reddington’s desk.

“Can I help you?” she asked warily.

As they turned to her, Liz saw the flash of metal inside one man’s jacket and was sure it was a gun. He gave her an insincere smile.

“Good evening, ma’am. We’re acquaintances of Mr Reddington’s. Perhaps you could tell me whether he’s at home this fine evening?”

Liz drew her arms around herself. “I don’t think so. He has security staff – did they not tell you?”

The man smiled disconcertingly. “I’m afraid they were not very… helpful.”

“You should have called before you came – I’m afraid you’ve had a wasted journey” Liz said, panic beginning to stir inside her.

The man shook his head in an exaggerated fashion. “Ah well, that is a shame. We really wanted to surprise old Red.”

“Can I give him a message?” Liz asked guardedly.

The men laughed nastily. “Sure you can. Tell him, ‘you don’t mess with the Lorcas’.”

Liz swallowed, her stomach sinking as she remembered Reddington’s gambit at the auction, and the warning that he would be interfering with the Lorca crime family.

“I think you should leave” she said firmly.

The man with the gun sauntered over to her with a smirk on his face. “Is that what you think?” he said mockingly.

He reached out to touch her, and instinctively she smacked his hand away. The man snarled in anger and backhanded her brutally hard across the cheek, causing her to fall backwards with the force of it. She hit her head on the side of a table as she went down, a searing pain flashing across her temple. She groaned quietly, blinking dizzily on the floor. Semi-conscious, she tried to focus and saw the man standing over her, his gun pointed at her head.

“You can be the message, chica” he said with a smirk.

Too weak to move, Liz closed her eyes and braced herself for the bullet that would end the dark, strange fairy tale that her life had become. She heard shots being fired and hitting flesh, but felt nothing. Dazed, she opened her eyes in time to see Reddington flanked by three body guards, his gun drawn. He dispatched the intruders with deadly accuracy, clearing the room before holstering his weapon and kneeling down next to her.

“Elizabeth” he breathed, his hand cupping her cheek. “Let me look at you.”

She blinked woozily and saw him staring down at her, his eyes creased with an expression of naked concern. His lower lip was drawn tightly over his teeth with anxiety, and his thumb caressed her cheek. It was Reddington, but not the cold, guarded, callous man she’d come to know; this man cared – he was _frightened_ for her.

She closed her eyes momentarily and felt him stroke her face. “Come on, sweetheart” he said urgently.

She opened her eyes with effort and he smiled softly. “Follow my finger” he instructed, holding up his hand in front of her. “Elizabeth, follow my finger” he repeated firmly.

She managed to do as he asked and his smile broadened, his relief visible. “Good. Do you know where you are?”

“Drawing room” Liz breathed.

“What’s the date?” he pressed.

“I don’t know” Liz told him honestly.

He frowned in concern and Liz shook her head.

“I’ve been here weeks. I don’t have a phone… I’m not exactly marking the days on the wall.”

She watched sadly as understanding dawned on Reddington’s features; it wasn’t her head, it was simply that she had no way of knowing the date when she was locked inside with no access to a phone or computer. A shadow passed over Reddington’s face and he looked away for a moment.

“You may have a mild concussion. You need rest” he said tightly. “Let’s get you upstairs.”

She went to sit up but dizziness came over her and she paused, swallowing her nausea. Instantly she felt him embrace her, one arm coming around her to support her head and the other sliding under her knees.

“Easy, sweetheart” he said quietly, and to her utter astonishment, he lifted her into his arms.

He proceeded to carry her from the room and up the stairs, and as she lay curled against his chest she thought dimly that he was being as gentle and tender with her now as he had been violent the last time he’d touched her. It made her head ache even more with confusion - where was the Reddington she’d been so frightened of? Without a doubt, this was not the monster, but the man who had gifted her the library and had played the haunting music for her. Perhaps it was possible that he was capable of true kindness.

When they reached her room he laid her gently on the bed, pausing to rest his hand on her forehead for a moment. He was being so sweet and caring, she had to tell him what she knew, to warn him that he’d made an enemy.

“The Lorcas” she breathed. “It was them.”

“I know” he said quietly.

Instinctively she laid her hand on his arm, her eyes searching his. “He said you don’t mess with them. He said I was going to be a message to you” she breathed.

Reddington’s expression darkened and it frightened her, though she knew that this time his anger was not directed at her.

“You don’t need to worry about them” he told her firmly.

“They’ll be back, there’ll be more of them-” she began urgently.

Reddington cupped her cheek then, his stormy eyes connecting with hers.

“You don’t need to worry about them” he repeated meaningfully.

Though his touch was gentle, his tone chilled her, and she knew that he undoubtedly meant to kill the remaining members of the Lorca family the way that he had the intruders. Either that, or he would have someone do it for him – perhaps it was even happening at that very moment. The thought made her giddy and she blinked dizzily.

She felt his thumb brush her cheek and her thoughts scattered as tiredness engulfed her.

“Rest, sweetheart” he murmured.

Her eyes were heavy, and the last thing she was aware of before she fell asleep was him tucking a blanket in around her. It was a truly loving gesture, and so unlike the monster she had come to know that she wouldn’t have thought him capable of it.

When she woke some hours later, she started when she saw he was still in the room. He had pulled up an armchair next to the bed and was sitting back in it, his hands clasped in front of him. On closer inspection she realised that he was asleep, his chest moving gently up and down under his vest, which was partially undone. She took the opportunity to observe him closely, and it struck her how much more peaceful – even vulnerable – he looked when he slept, his long, sandy lashes resting on his cheek.

As if sensing that she’d woken, he opened his eyes, and his deep gray gaze met hers, instantly alert. She drew back nervously, and he looked at her appraisingly.

“How’s your head?” he asked in a low, serious voice.

“It hurts” she answered honestly. “But not as bad as before.”

“What about your vision?” he continued. “Can you see me clearly?”

“I can” she said slowly. “You stayed.”

His mouth twitched. “You could have a concussion. You shouldn’t be left alone” he said gruffly.

“You care” Liz said quietly.

He looked at her for several long moments before answering her.

“I care” he acknowledged, swallowing.

Liz smiled softly before closing her eyes and allowing sleep to creep over her again. The last thing she felt before she drifted off was his hand gently cover hers.


	9. Chapter 9

Since the break-in at his house, Reddington had been polite and courteous, though his manner was very stiff, as though he didn’t quite know how to behave towards her. One day she was sitting in the orangery, looking at the stunning copy of The Sleeping Beauty she had found in the library. Whether it was because of the twisted fairy tale her life now resembled, or whether it was just a longing for the simplicity of childhood, she felt incredibly drawn to the book.

She heard Reddington clear his throat and looked up to see him walking tentatively towards her. He stopped short when he saw the book in her hands, a heart-broken look passing over his handsome features. Liz’s heart began to pound nervously, afraid that he would take exception to her removing a book from the library.

“Was I not supposed to-” she began

“It was my daughter’s favorite” he said quietly.

The sorrow with which he spoke brought tears to her eyes, and she closed the book carefully on her lap.

“I’m so sorry” she said gently. “I’ll return it right away.”

“Don’t” he said quickly, shaking his head. “It’s alright. I’m…glad to see it again. I wondered whether you’d perhaps like to join me outside” he began stiffly. “There’s a fine walled garden on the west side of the house. There are more roses… She loved them. My wife. And there’s a swing” he added, a nostalgic look in his eye.

Liz smiled softly. “I’d like that.”

She placed the book carefully on the table and went to him, following him into the garden, down the pretty stone walkways and through a green wooden door. She smiled in delight when she saw what was on the other side; the walls were festooned with trailing roses, bursting with indiscriminate color, there were trees laden with apples and plums, and a large swing hanging from a branch, which Liz thought must have been used as a love seat.

“This is beautiful” she breathed, smiling warmly, and he seemed pleased to hear that she liked it.

He gestured at her to accompany him and they walked in companionable silence for a while before he paused and cleared his throat.

“You said it would be easy” he said quietly, a pained expression on his face. “To kill you. You said it would be easy for me to kill you.”

Liz looked up at him then, swallowing nervously.

“It wouldn’t” he said heavily. “I need you to know that. I never want to hurt you. That day… the day you looked me in the eye and told me to end your life… I saw myself as you do and it was… terrible. I felt so very sorry. Sorry and… ashamed. Of what I’ve done to you. Of what I’ve become. I realised I’ve come so far from the man I once was. I barely recognise myself.”

Liz bit her lip to stave off the wall of emotion she felt building in her chest. “It’s not too late” she whispered. “I believe the man you were is still there somewhere. I’ve met him” she added with a sad smile. “He saved my life in that club. He helped me when I was hurt. He’s a good man. _You_ can be a good man.”

Reddington stared at her, his brow knitted uncertainly, before walking on in silence with Liz at his side.

* * *

In the days that followed, his manner remained stiff, and his attempts at civility were sometimes even comical to her, especially when he asked her to join him for dinner and fumbled his words so much that he sounded like a boy asking a girl on a date. He seemed relieved when she agreed to dine with him, and by the time the designated evening came, her stomach fluttered at the thought that the notorious criminal – once seemingly so devoid of humanity - may have developed feelings for her. She wore a light summer dress that skimmed prettily over her slim curves, and left her hair lose in dark waves. As she surveyed herself in the mirror she hoped that, after everything that had happened, he would put down his defences for her.

His eyes sparkled warmly when he she entered the dining room, dancing appreciatively over her. She noticed immediately that he had made an effort; his suit was a luxurious dove gray as opposed to his usual intimidating black or navy, and he’d arranged the dining table intimately, with candles and two place settings at one end.

“Elizabeth” he greeted her in a rich tone. “You look radiant.”

“So do you” she said, and immediately blushed at herself.

“I mean, you look… handsome” she finished, hoping like mad that he wouldn’t laugh or sneer at her as he had done in the past.

Her wish was granted and he only smiled softly, gesturing for her to sit. She accepted gratefully and hummed appreciatively at the wonderful array of foods on the table; rich stews, pureed potatoes, caramelised vegetables, a bottle of wine and two glasses.

“This looks incredible” she said, marvelling. “I hope Mr Kaplan hasn’t had to work too hard just for me.”

“Ahh” Reddington said, raising his eyebrows knowingly. “Nothing to worry about there – she’s got the night off.”

Liz frowned in confusion, and then smiled as understanding dawned. “You mean… You made this yourself?”

“I did” he answered, and Liz couldn’t help but smile at the pride she could detect in his voice.

“Once upon a time I enjoyed cooking very much” he continued, smiling sadly. “There are a number of things I used to enjoy that I find myself recalling of late” he added softly.

He poured wine for them both, and when he was seated next to her, Liz raised her glass in a toast. “To rediscovering things we loved” she said.

He seemed struck by her words, and after a moment of silence, he tapped his glass gently against hers.

“And to discovering new things” he added quietly.

Liz sipped her wine, the merlot and the way he’d looked at her causing a pleasant warmth to rise in her cheeks.

As they began the meal Liz groaned in appreciation.

“Seriously, this is so good. I can’t believe you can cook like this!”

Reddington laughed softly, his expression reminding Liz of the photograph she had seen of him smiling with his family. She wanted so much to ask about them, for him to share his painful past with her so she could help him heal. Whatever it was, it was bad enough to have turned him from a happy, kind and decent man into a monster. But she knew that if he was ever able to share the sad truth, it would take time.

If she had been concerned about how the dinner would go, her fears did not come to pass. As Reddington relaxed, he became more talkative, and by the end of the meal he was more animated than she had ever seen him. It was clear to her that although his life as the head of a criminal empire was extremely hard, it also provided rare moments of wonder. He enraptured her with outrageous tales of criminal exploits, and she was heartened to see that underneath it all he appeared to have a solid, if warped, sense of justice.

After they’d finished the spectacular spread and she’d caved at his insistence that she try the double chocolate torte, Liz began to grow a little nervous. Could she tell him that she was harboring feelings for him? Would he reject her, or worse, hurt her again? What if he was incapable of love, and this was all just one of his games?

He seemed to sense her discomfort and he rose from the table, placing a hand gently on her shoulder.

“I know it’s getting late. If you’re tired please do go to bed. Though of course if you can stand my company a while longer I’d be honored if you’d join me for a digestif on the terrace. It’s shaping up to be a beautiful night out there” he added with a slight stiffness that told Liz that perhaps he was feeling every bit as nervous as she was.

“I’d love that” she told him, smiling reassuringly.

Reddington poured the drinks and led her out onto the terrace, the night sky glittering with stars as he’d predicted. Though she found it difficult to forget the terrible rage and violence he was capable of, her stomach fluttered at the thought of the hurt, vulnerable and caring man he had revealed himself to be. Was it possible that this man could really care for her? That he could love her?

She shuddered a little and felt him slip his jacket gently around her shoulders. She smiled at the feel of the soft wool against her cheek, before turning to look up at him. He stared down at her, raising his hand slowly and brushing a lock of hair off her face. The soft look in his eyes gave her confidence, though she had to take a deep breath before speaking.

“You know, you’re a mystery as far as the world is concerned” she said quietly. “There’s actually a small section on you in one of my course books, but you’re nothing like the man they describe… I can imagine you living such a different life.”

He looked pained and for a moment she thought he wouldn’t answer, but then he suddenly smiled as something struck him.

“I once dreamed of being captain of a ship” he told her, shaking his head. “To be out there on the ocean in the middle of the night, navigating by the stars. I thought it would be the greatest life on earth.”

Liz smiled warmly, delighted at the image he’d conjured. “I think you would’ve made a terrific captain.”

Reddington laughed nostalgically. “Perhaps. In another life. But I’ll always love the night sky. Here-” he said, taking her arm and pointing to the vast expanse of night above them. “That’s Polaris, the North Star. That’s how sailors used to find their way home… I’ve been lost for so long. But that star… that is what I see when I look at you. I see my way home. A way back to the man I was.”

Liz looked at him in wonder, her breath catching in her throat as he turned to face her. He stood silently for a moment, before gently reaching out to caress her cheek with his thumb.

“Elizabeth…” he began quietly. “You’ve done so much for me. I want you to be happy here. If there’s anything you need… Anything you want. I can make it happen.”

As soon as he spoke, she knew what she needed, but was afraid to ask. She stared at him hesitantly, her lip caught between her teeth.

“What is it?” he asked in a low voice.

“My father…” she whispered. “I left so quickly, he was devastated. I love him so much. I just want to know that he’s ok. I’m sure if I knew that he was alright, I could be happy.”

A shadow passed over Reddington’s face and he stared down at her, his lips pursed. Liz remained still, afraid that she’d angered him, but when he spoke his tone was soft.

“In that case there’s something you should know. My people have been watching your father to ensure that he kept up his end of the bargain.”

Liz inhaled sharply. “He has, I’m sure of it - he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardise our agreement, please-” she interjected desperately.

Reddington closed his eyes regretfully for a moment. “It’s not that” he said with a sigh. “Elizabeth, he’s been admitted to John’s Hopkins… It’s the cancer treatment centre.”

Liz let out a soft sob, her eyes filling with tears. “What? No!”

“I’m sorry” Reddington said tightly.

Liz took a shuddering breath. “I have to go to him. Please. Please let me see him” she begged in a broken whisper.

Reddington turned away from her, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the stone balcony. Liz waited for his answer, her heart racing, terrified that he would become angry, that he would punish her for asking.

“You can go” he said gruffly, without looking at her. “Go back to him.”

“What did you say?” Liz whispered in disbelief.

Reddington turned back to her, a tumult of emotion flaring in the depths of his eyes.

“I release you. You are no longer my prisoner.”

“You mean… I’m free?” Liz gasped quietly.

“Yes” Reddington said, swallowing painfully.

He placed his hands slowly on her cheeks, gently cupping her face, and pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead.

“You and your father will be safe from me and my people. You have my word.”

Liz knew that she should leave that instant, that she should run out of there while she had the chance, but she felt overcome with a strange sadness at the thought of never seeing him again. Sensing her hesitate, he canted his head with a pained expression.

“Elizabeth. _Go_.”

He turned back to the balcony, his shoulders sagging and hands tight on the stone. Trembling, Liz tentatively put her hand on his arm. He refused to look at her, but she couldn’t go without letting him know that she cared for him. She leaned up and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

“ _Thank you_ ” she whispered, and turned to leave.

“Elizabeth” he said tightly, his gaze remaining steadfastly out into the night. 

“Yes?”

“I’ll be at the Constitution Gardens tomorrow at midday. The east side entrance. If you believe a person can change… If you believe a monster can become a man… Meet me there.”


	10. Chapter 10

The next morning, Liz entered the cancer suite at Johns Hopkins, hurrying down the corridor until she found her father’s room.

She entered and ran to his bedside, grasping his hand.

“ _Papa_ ” she cried. “I missed you so much!”

Professor Scott’s eyes were watery and wide with disbelief. “Lizzie! No it can’t be you. You’re an illusion” he gasped.

“It’s me, Papa” she said with a tearful smile. “I’m here.”

“My God, Lizzie! My Butterball. I thought I’d never see you again” he said, kissing her hand over and over. “How are you here?”

“Never mind that now. You’re sick, Papa” Liz said tearfully. “Tell me.”

“I’m so sorry to worry you Butterball, after everything you’ve been through. It’s Lung Cancer, but the good news is they caught it early. I’m getting good treatment here. The doctors are hopeful” he reassured her.

Liz smiled tearfully and hugged him, overwhelmed to be seeing her beloved father again. She was about to question him further when a young, red-haired man walked into the room, flashing a badge.

“Professor Scott? I’m Special Agent Donald Ressler with the FBI. I’m following up on a call you made regarding a wanted fugitive.”

“Papa!” Liz exclaimed anxiously.

He gripped her hand. “I don’t care what happens to me, Butterball. I had to do what I could to save you.”

Agent Ressler frowned. “So you’re Elizabeth Scott” he said. “We had a report that you’d been kidnapped.”

“Well as you can see, I’m here. Sorry you’ve had a wasted trip” Liz said cautiously.

“I’ll be the judge of that” Agent Ressler said suspiciously. “You see the FBI don’t usually investigate isolated missing persons’ cases, but your father has provided us with some details that are hard to ignore. Can you please tell me your whereabouts in recent weeks. We know you’ve been absent from the college.”

“Lizzie, tell him!” her father urged in consternation.

Liz swallowed nervously. “I went away for a while. There was just something I had to do. I’m fine. Really.”

“Right” Agent Ressler said incredulously. “You just drop everything, don’t tell anyone where you’re going… At the same time we receive reports of a sighting of one of the FBI’s most wanted fugitives on your campus. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that?”

Liz shook her head. “I’m sorry, Agent. I’m afraid I really can’t help you.”

“I see” Agent Ressler said tersely. “I may need to question you at a later date, Miss Scott. In the meantime, if you decide you wanna talk… give me a call.”

He placed a business card on the nightstand and, to Liz’s relief, turned and left abruptly.

“Lizzie, I don’t understand” her father said desperately. “Did Reddington threaten you? How did you escape from him?”

Liz shook her head. “I didn’t escape, Papa, he let me go. He knew you were sick and he let me go so I could see you.”

“That evil man?” Professor Scott exclaimed.

“He’s different” Liz said slowly. “He’s not the monster we met that day on campus.”

“I don’t believe it” Professor Scott said, shaking his head.

“It’s true” Liz told him. “He’s… changed. He can be kind. Gentle, even. Somehow, he’s changed” she finished with a smile.

She looked at her watch. “Papa, there’s somewhere I need to be now. But please know that everything is ok. Everything is more than ok. I’ll come back soon. I love you.”

With that, she gathered her things and rushed out to look for a cab to take her to the Constitution Gardens, praying she wasn’t too late.

* * *

When the cab dropped her off at the east side of the gardens she looked around, her eyes searching desperately for Reddington. Her heart seized when she saw him about to get into his black Mercedes and drive away. She couldn’t bear the thought that he would leave thinking that she hated him, that she didn’t believe he could change.

“Wait!” she cried desperately.

She ran towards him and he turned around, his features breaking into a smile of pleasure and disbelief when he saw her.

She’d almost reached him when someone shouted behind her.

“FBI! Raymond Reddington, you’re under arrest!”

They both spun round in dismay to see Agent Ressler approaching, his gun trained on Reddington. The criminal drew his own weapon in a flash and fired at the FBI agent, narrowly missing his target. Agent Ressler took the next shot, and Liz cried out as Reddington jerked backwards. She gasped as she saw a crimson mark spread across his chest, staining the delicate pin strip of his suit. He staggered against the car before falling to the floor, gasping.

She ran to him and dropped down beside him while more shots rang out as Reddington’s driver returned fire, holding the FBI agent at bay. Seeing blood seeping fast from Reddington’s chest, Liz tore off her scarf and pressed it to the wound. She looked around at the driver and yelled at him for help.

“We’ve got to get him in the back, help me!”

“No, Elizabeth-”

Liz looked back as Reddington grabbed her wrist urgently, his fingers sliding in the sticky blood covering her hands.

“I’m so sorry!” she sobbed. “He must have followed me, this is all my fault!”

“You…have to go” he gurgled. “Surrender. If you don’t… they’ll think we’re in cahoots. Go now!”

“What?” she said, alarmed. “I’m not leaving you!”

He gripped her hand, his gray-blue eyes staring pleadingly into hers. “I got to see you… one last time” he said, his breathing labored. “Now go!”

Liz shook her head vehemently. “No, no! I am _not_ leaving you.”

She reached up and opened the car door, and slid her hand under his arm. The driver crawled around the other side and together they pulled him into the back of the car. Liz followed him in, and as soon as the doors were closed, the driver sped off, leaving the stunned FBI agent behind.

“We need to get him to a hospital!” Liz yelled.

“ _No_ ” Reddington choked.

The driver tossed a cell phone towards Liz. “Dial star seven seven” he muttered. “You’ll get a text back with a location where we can take him to get patched up.”

_Of course_ Liz thought numbly. An international crime lord like Reddington couldn’t just turn up at a hospital. She dialled the number and before long they were at a warehouse set up as a makeshift operating theatre. It was fully staffed, though the doctors and nurses were wearing scrubs from a variety of different hospitals.

A man in blue scrubs approached her as Reddington was taken behind plastic sheeting.

“Is he going to be ok?” she asked urgently.

“You did well” the man said. “Because of you he has a chance. But you should go now. You know who he is, right? I’d get out of here while you can.”

Liz bit her lip. “I’m not leaving, so you’d better get back to your patient.”

The man shook his head and retreated behind the plastic curtain, leaving Liz alone waiting to hear the fate of the man who had kept her prisoner.

* * *

It was hours before Reddington was out of surgery, but the staff allowed her to see him fairly soon after that; there were no visiting hours here in the criminal’s world. She stepped gingerly behind the plastic curtain and saw him lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to drips and machines, an oxygen mask over his face. He looked so fragile it was hard to believe that this was the powerful man who had kidnapped her, dominated her, and ruled over all aspects of her world. She sat quietly beside the bed, and, after a moment, gently placed her hand on his.

His fingers twitched under hers and when she looked up she saw that his eyes were open, and staring at her.

“Hey” she said gently. “It was touch-and-go for a minute there but they say you’re going to be ok.”

Reddington reached up with his other hand and shakily removed the oxygen mask from his face.

“You should have let me die” he breathed gruffly. “It would be better that way.”

Liz felt a deep pang in her heart as she heard his bleak pronouncement.

“Don’t say that” she choked, tears springing to her eyes.

“It’s the truth” he said, swallowing. “That bullet was divine retribution. The things I’ve done. The things I’ve done to you… Of all the terrible misdeeds I’ve committed in my life, you may be the most… I’m a monster. You could have been killed today because of me.”

“You can’t leave me” Liz whispered. “It may have been the monster who kidnapped me, but it’s the man you’ve become that I… that I’ve fallen in love with” she confessed quietly. “I _love_ you” she breathed.

She saw his lips part in disbelief, hope seeming to break through the cracks in his haunted expression. He lay there in silence for a while, staring at her, and though he said nothing, she could feel the grip of his hand on hers and all the emotion it conveyed. When he did speak, his voice was rough and she could see his blue-gray eyes begin to glisten.

“In Mexico, there are these fish that have colonized the freshwater caves along Sierra del Abra. They were lost. Living in complete darkness. But they didn’t die. They adapted. They lost their sight, their pigmentation, eventually even their eyes. With survival they became hideous. I’ve rarely thought about what I once was. But I wonder if a ray of light were to make it into the cave, would I be able to see it? Or feel it? Would I gravitate to its warmth? And if I did, would I become less hideous?”

He paused, brushing his thumb over the back of her hand.

“Elizabeth… you have brought light into the darkest recesses of my soul. If it’s possible that a woman like you, as brave and good as you are, can love a man like me… If anyone can give me a second chance it’s you.”

Liz gripped his hand, her heart bursting with sadness and love for the wretched man who was battling his way out of the darkness and pain that had consumed him. She raised his hand to her lips and kissed it, holding his palm to her cheek in a promise that she would stay by his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go, folks! Also I wholesale stole the hideous fish speech because it was so appropriate here, and too good to mess with.


	11. Chapter 11

Weeks later, Liz entered the orangery and found Reddington wandering among the roses. He turned as she entered, a soft smile on his lips.

“I thought I might find you in here” she told him. “You’re recovering well.”

“I am” he said gently, “thanks to you. Between your care and Kate’s potions I couldn’t help but make a full recovery.”

His expression clouded then, and Liz approached him tentatively.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

Reddington sighed and took her hand, his thumb brushing affectionately over her fingers.

“You are right that I am well. You have cared for me like the angel you are. But it would be wrong for me to keep you here. I’ve taken enough of your life already.”

“You’re not keeping me” she answered firmly. “I’m here because I choose to be.”

He squeezed her hand with a sad smile, the lines around his eyes creasing with regret. “You are everything that is good. Kind. Beautiful. It’s time for you to live your life.”

Liz frowned. “My life is here now, with you.”

Reddington swallowed, looking away from her momentarily as if struck by a painful memory.

“Dear girl” he said, shaking his head. “You’ve done more for me than you will ever know. You’ve brought back the man I once was. A man I thought I could never be again. But when I think of what I’ve done… What I’ve done to you. How can I dare to love you? To _make_ love to you?”

Liz stepped forward, placing her palm gently on his cheek.

“You said it yourself. You were a monster, but now you’re a man - a good man… a man who made me love him. I _love_ you.”

She leaned up and pressed her lips gently to his, a kiss given willingly, and filled with love. He closed his eyes in wonder, and after a moment he responded tentatively, his lips softly brushing hers. The feel of his mouth on hers - the passion she knew he was capable of – coursed through her like sweet tendrils of desire and she began to unbutton his vest.

“Don’t hold back” she murmured, moaning as his hands slid into her hair.

He deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing hers, his hands gripping her hair until she cried out. He broke off suddenly, his eyes burning.

“I _can’t_ ” he panted. “I have no right. Elizabeth, I don’t know how to do this-”

She stopped him abruptly with another kiss, pouring all the love she could into it, into him.

“Then let me show you” she whispered against his mouth.

Taking his hand she led him upstairs to her room, closing the door behind her. She turned to face him and unbuttoned her shirt, letting it fall from her shoulders. Trembling a little in anticipation, she pushed her skirt to the floor and stepped out of it so that she stood before him in just her bra and panties. He was staring at her intently, and her heart was thundering; she was going to strip for him, just like he’d once asked her to, like Salome in the opera.

She reached behind to unclasp her bra, but he grasped her wrists, stilling her, his expression taught with anxiety.

“You shouldn’t do this” he said in a low voice. “Not for me.”

“I _want_ to” she told him, smiling up at him. “Now watch – I know you like to do that.”

He released her with a frown, and stared, breathing hard as she slowly removed her bra, her pert nipples hardening in the cool air of the room. His lips parted a little and she saw with satisfaction that his pants had become tented. Knowing that she aroused him so much gave her confidence, and, biting her lip, she pulled down her panties and stood completely naked before him.

His eyes burned with desire, raking over her body, but he made no move to touch her. She closed the brief distance between them, standing so close that she could feel the slight scratch of the wool of his vest against her nipples. He swallowed, closing his eyes as though trying to exercise an incredible amount of restraint. She leaned in gently and brushed her lips delicately against his. Still he did not move, though his golden lashes fluttered and she could hear his breathing quicken.

She moved away and he opened his eyes in time to see her settle on the bed in front of him, a shy smile on her lips. His mouth dropped open as he watched her fingers glide over her belly and between her legs, her hips shifting sensuously as she began to touch herself. She watched breathlessly as he pushed his tongue lustfully against his teeth, apparently lost for words at the sight of her pleasuring herself. Emboldened by the effect she was having on him, she spread her legs a little wider, opening herself to his gaze and ensuring that he could see the moment she slipped a finger inside herself.

His sharp eyes narrowed then and he begin to walk slowly towards her in a way that was almost predatory.

“What are you doing?” he asked her in a low, molten tone, his head canted questioningly. “You know what I’m capable of. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to provoke me.”

Liz swallowed, trying to keep her nerve.

“I’m trying to show you…” she said breathlessly. “You don’t have to hold yourself back. Don’t treat me like I might break. I won’t. I want you. And you were right – what you said about me. I do want to give over control. Just a little” she added nervously.

“Is that so” he murmured, a small smile playing on his lips before his expression turned serious again.

“But you were also right about me, Elizabeth” he continued quietly. “I need control. It’s a part of me that was there even before… Before I became the monster who did those things to you. I don’t want to hurt you” he finished tightly.

Liz sat up then, looking at him softly. “I trust you. Make love to me, Raymond.”

His lip curled a little with emotion, but he said nothing, only reached up and began to tug at the knot of his tie. Liz watched in anticipation as he removed the paisley silk along with his vest and jacket, and laid them neatly on a chair. She trembled a little as he approached her, but held his gaze valiantly as he climbed onto the bed still in his shirt and pants, his thumb coming up to brush her bottom lip.

“Tell me, Lizzie” he asked in a low voice. “Did you enjoy being naked in front of me and playing with yourself?”

The way he used her nickname sent coils of desire snaking through her and she nodded wordlessly.

“Hmmm” he murmured thoughtfully, pressing a kiss to her temple. “And did it satisfy you? Did you orgasm?”

Liz blushed deeply at his frank questioning, keenly aware that she was naked and he was still dressed. She shook her head and he tutted in admonishment.

“Use your _words_ , Lizzie. Did you come? Or do you need me to help you?” he asked softly.

“I need your help” she whispered.

“Ahhhh” he rumbled in satisfaction. “Music to my ears.”

He pushed her gently back on the bed and she quivered at the feel of his wool suit pants brushing against her bare legs. She felt his lips graze her abdomen, his teeth scraping lightly over her hip bone as she squirmed underneath him.

“Do you know what would be even more satisfying than your finger, Lizzie?” he murmured against her soft, delicate skin. “My _tongue_.”

Liz tensed a little, shyness overcoming her, and her mind flitted back to the opera when he had tasted her essence so appreciatively. He seemed to notice her hesitation and she felt his thumb stroking her hip soothingly.

“Relax, sweetheart” he said softly, and she tentatively opened her legs a little, her soft thigh brushing against the roughness of his cheek.

He hummed approvingly, and she sighed as she felt his lips brush the sensitive inside of her thigh, giving her the lightest kisses and flicks of his tongue, letting her know just how gentle he was capable of being. She began to relax and then gasped as she felt his tongue push gently between her legs, teasing her lips and clitoris.

“You are exquisite, Lizzie” he murmured, the vibrations of his voice causing her to shiver pleasantly.

He continued to stimulate her gently, allowing her time to adjust to the new, pleasurable sensation, and soon she opened her legs a little wider, desperate for him to make her come.

“Please” she said breathlessly, eliciting a gentle chuckle from him.

“Patience, Elizabeth” he murmured, his breath hot against her thigh. “I’ll get you there… If you’re a very good girl” he finished with a hint of mischief in his voice.

Liz cried out in protest, but it came out as more of a moan as he lathed his tongue lightly through her folds, dancing around her most sensitive place but never quite giving her what she needed.

“So this is how you’re keeping control” she panted. “You’re going to make me beg to come.”

“Mmmmm” he hummed in amusement as he tortured her with his tongue. “I admit the idea of you pleading with me to satisfy you is phenomenally arousing… but my motives are even more basic than that… Good heavens you taste so good, sweet girl…delectable little Lizzie” he murmured, and let out a gruff groan of satisfaction as he finally began to suckle her clit.

Liz cried out helplessly as his tongue pressed repeatedly where she needed it, her hips bucking into him as the pleasure overwhelmed her and burst sweetly inside.

“Easy sweetheart” he panted, his voice rough with desire and his hands gripping her hips to still her while his fingers pressed into her bottom.

“You are so beautiful when you come, Lizzie” he breathed. “So alive.”

She was dizzy with pleasure and fumbled for his hand, gripping his fingers tightly in hers as she caught her breath.

“I need you. Now. Please.”

He looked down at her, his features suddenly apprehensive.

“You’re sure? You’re sure this is what you want…”

Her sparkling blue eyes met his with all the conviction she could muster.

“ _Yes_. Love me, Raymond.”

“I do, sweetheart” he said quietly. “I do.”

She watched as he removed the rest of his clothes, and it was like he was stripping away the last of the layers between them. This was a first time; today they were not prisoner and captor, but equals, lovers who cared deeply for one another and wanted to show it.

When he entered her it wasn’t forcefully, but with a gentle strength that took her breath away. This time he waited for her, and she took enormous satisfaction in being the one to draw him in, wrapping her legs around him and encouraging him to take pleasure in her.

He held her tightly but not enough to hurt her, bringing her senses alive with a passion and sensitivity that she wouldn’t have been sure he was capable of before now. He shuddered with pleasure and emotion as he came inside her, devotedly kissing her over and over, and she knew then that the monster who had kidnapped her had gone forever.

* * *

Later that evening she found him in the sitting room staring pensively into a glass of scotch. The sight made her nervous, but when she approached he raised his head and smiled warmly, reaching out for her to sit with him.

“I know what you’re thinking” she said softly.

Reddington canted his head and reached out to tuck her hair behind her ear, as she’d learned he liked to do.

“And what’s that?” he said, humoring her.

“You’re thinking that you don’t deserve this happiness” she said quietly. “But you do. And so do I. What you said about me, who I was… that I gave my life away the day I offered myself to you…”

“It was the bravest thing I have ever witnessed” Reddington said with quiet conviction.

“Though I couldn’t admit it, I believe I fell in love with you right there and then. Taking you was…reckless. And that’s something I never am. The truth is, a powerful instinct drew me to you, something I couldn’t comprehend. Perhaps on some level I knew you’d be my savior.”

“In some ways you saved me too” Liz said softly, and Reddington frowned quizzically.

“You were right” Liz explained. “I was too afraid to live. I always felt like something was missing. But not anymore. I want this life - with you.”

Reddington smiled sadly. “If only it were that simple.”

“I don’t understand” Liz said, her stomach knotting apprehensively.

He was silent, deep in thought for a moment, before slowly taking her hand. When he began to speak, his voice was heavy and thick with emotion.

“The life I’ve led, Lizzie… It doesn’t come with a happy ending. It shouldn’t. It comes with a _debt_. Life upon life… wrong upon wrong…”

“It doesn’t have to be that way” Liz whispered.

Reddington sighed, brushing his thumb over her fingers.

“I haven’t spoken about who I was. The life I lost” he began, and stopped, swallowing hard.

Liz squeezed his hand gently. “Your family” she whispered.

Reddington nodded tightly, looking at her with a pained smile.

“Elizabeth, I want to help you understand… A farmer comes home one day to find that everything that gives meaning to his life is gone. Everything that he loved, taken from him. His wife and child… Slaughtered. He makes a promise to himself in those dark hours. A life’s work erupts from his knotted mind, a path of vengeance… But one day he sees – he is _made_ to see - the wreckage he’s left in his wake and realises he is no longer a farmer at all. It is _he_ who takes… _He_ who slaughters. And he knows, in his heart, he must pay.”

Liz gripped his hand, her heart breaking for the unimaginable pain that he must have suffered.

“Hasn’t he paid enough?” she asked quietly, tears pricking her eyes. “He deserves forgiveness.”

Reddington shook his head. “Forgiveness has to be earned, Lizzie. If I take up the life I so dearly want without making amends… Then neither of us will truly be free.”

“What are you saying?” Liz whispered tearfully.

Reddington looked at her, his eyes creased with regret. “Elizabeth, please understand… I need to turn myself in.”

“What? No!” Liz exclaimed, panic seizing her.

“You could be in prison for the rest of your life – they could execute you! How is that making amends?”

“I’m sorry. Dear girl, I truly am” he said quietly.

“You deserve a life with someone worthy of you. Not a life with a criminal, always looking over your shoulder. I shall cherish the time we had together for the rest of my life, however long or short.”

Liz shook her head vehemently.

“All it would do is take away the man I love! You think you’re not worthy of love but you are.”

“Elizabeth…”

“No! I almost lost you once, I will not let that happen again so you can forget it!”

Reddington shook his head.

“You would be with me, even knowing what I am, what I’ve done…”

“Yes!”

Liz paused to catch her breath, and an idea struck her.

“What if there was another way to make amends? You run a criminal empire, you must know things that the FBI would be interested in. I bet you could put a dent in the illegal arms trade for a start.”

Reddington frowned. “You’re suggesting I make a deal in exchange for intel on other criminals…” he said slowly.

“I guess I am” Liz said breathlessly. “Is that possible?”

Reddington’s eyes creased in thought.

“It’s certainly audacious. Marvin would have an absolute fit – he’s my lawyer, poor guy… Lizzie, tell me. When we met, your ambition was to work with the FBI to apprehend criminals like me – indeed, I’ve long been tickled by the irony. Is that still something you want?”

Liz paused. “I… don’t know. So much has happened, I don’t know if it’s possible… But it was my dream” she said tentatively.

“If a life with me is really what you want…” Reddington said slowly. “If you’re sure…”

Liz gripped his hand and stared at him, her blue eyes locked with his. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

Reddington nodded.

“What if I told you I could do it all? Turn myself in, spend my life with you… and give you the glittering career you deserve?”

Liz frowned.

“I’d say it sounds incredible. But how is that possible?”

Reddington’s eyes twinkled mischievously then, his lips curving into a knowing smile.

“I’m going to make you famous, Lizzie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! This has been wild to write, and I hope you've enjoyed reading it. More from me coming very soon... NTDx


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